


Violet Hearts

by Marcanine



Category: Underfell - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bara Sans, Big Sans, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gang AU, Gore, Lime, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Threesome - F/M/M, Underfell, im a student so updates are rare but trust me i am trying here, jesus I never thought I would have to write that LMAO, tags will be updated as i progress but i won't post tags on spoilers sorry chums, this is an AU so resets never happened, tough sans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-05-17 14:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5874289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marcanine/pseuds/Marcanine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I guess it's hard to stay so distant from the ones you care about after all. It's a lesson the two of you boneheads obviously need to be acquainted with.</p><p>Street gang AU, created by me, inspired and motivated by the wonderful plushysins.tumblr.com. Polyamorous relationship between Sans, Underfell Sans and F!Reader. Slow burn, eventual smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nightly Scuffle

**Author's Note:**

> This was mainly a test to see if I can write more than one-shots...I love gang AUs so why not start there?? 
> 
> This was inspired by this. Jesus Christ. 
> 
> http://plushysins.tumblr.com/post/137866041258/you-should-see-the-other-guys-whats-left
> 
> yes I know it is weird for two Sanses to exist in the same universe but oh my god I tried I really did
> 
> feel free to yell at me at http://bonethot.tumblr.com

 

 

Hollow footsteps echoed throughout the alleyway. The nightly bustle of the neighbourhood was gone and the streetlights were out, the silhouettes of some tenants danced along the depressing brick walls of your apartment. The strangers eyed some fresh anti-monster graffiti, and Red’s toothy frown deepened.

“come out,” he growled, crimson eyes flaring in aggravation. “i could sense your dirty souls since percy street.”

The monster next to Red remained quiet, the wide grin never faltering as he eyed the dust pile in the middle of the clearing. Both hands in his coat pockets, he nudged Red and motioned with a nod to investigate.

With nothing to do on a Sunday night, the two monsters could only think of one person they would spend it with. It was pure coincidence that they had a chance to relieve some tension beforehand, maybe even making a little gold on top of it. All of that changed when they discovered a trail of dust leading right back here.

Suddenly the dumpster was thrust aside, and the two monsters activated their magic in anticipation. Three stocky men dashed out, crowbars and baseball bats at the ready. Red snickered, eyes widening as crimson fire almost erupted from his left iris, unmistakable excitement painting his skull. His partner sighed, turning to face the new group he knew to be behind them.

The partner chuckled, his eyes becoming half-lidded in mock-boredom. "is that really the best way to greet a new pal?”

A man wearing a cheap skeleton mask stepped in front of his fellow gang members, and the monster’s fists tightened at the sight of his assault rifle. The masked man's tank-top was littered with holes but still held the seven-heart crest he knew to be the only anti-monster gang in the west end, Magician’s Crew. There seemed to be at least twenty of them crowding the alleyway.

“You two fuckers are the Violet Hearts. I’m sure of it this time.” He spat, raising his gun and releasing the safety. Neither monsters flinched, but one raised a bony brow.

“nice mask, tubby,” Red shrugged his large shoulders. “did'ja find it in a fuckin' dumpster?”

“Shut the hell up! Ya’ve gone around long enough attacking my men and running away like the _purple pussies_ you are." The man gestured to the ash behind them, bloodstains coated the concrete around it. "See that behind you? It used to be one of yer little friends,” he whined the last word and faked a pout. “Aww, she looked like one of you ladderfaces, and ya made me kill her, maybe it’s good that I did, you stupid boneheads-”

The partner's hands darted out from his coat pocket, blazing in cyan flame. One by one, dozens of sharp bones erupted from the floor and surrounded the gang members, the leader barely having a chance to choke out a gasp as his body was enveloped in blue aura and dunked into the ground, bones piercing through his body like toothpicks in warm butter. Blood spurted out of his back, a strained gurgle escaping his mouth as he twitched around the calcium spears. Surprised shouts and murmurs erupted from his men, watching in horror as their superior became a mutilated pincushion before their very eyes.

“only one person is allowed to call me a bonehead.” His left iris glowed an ice blue and locked with the first person to meet his gaze.

“names sans. sans the skeleton,” his arm extended to the right, a mixture of cyan and platinum-white bones materialized around his hand, spinning rapidly. From behind Sans, Red walked up to join him, hands in his jacket, eye sockets filled with bloodlust. The men from behind the dumpster were mounted on the wall with boney spears.

“i’m red,” he grinned, a golden tooth glinting in the now violet light of their combined magic. His pupils disappeared from his eye sockets, and Sans’ followed suit. The two of them lifted their aura-enveloped hands, discs of sharp bone spinning around them. The crowd was illuminated in their light, shouting and struggling against the arcane bonds. The Violet Hearts spoke in unison, grins unfaltering.

“- **and you’re all about to have a bad time.** ”

\----------------

Police sirens rouse you from your slumber, frantic shouting and stomping outside of your window cause you to groan and cover your head with your pillow. The shouting outside grows louder, and you rolled to face your alarm clock. It read 11:00 PM.

Needless to say, you regret living in a ground floor apartment, especially when said property is located in one of the poorest parts in town.

It wasn't like you could do much about it though. You can only make so much money working at a hole-in-the-wall tea shop, and your online college courses ate up what was left in your bank account.

The best part about the apartment, you figured, were the people. Well, mostly people. The perks of living in a complete dive of a neighbourhood was that you were introduced to monsters pretty quickly. Many humans don't take too kindly to them, and you hadn't either at first. After being forced to move into the only monster-friendly location in the west-end you warmed up to them pretty quickly. It deeply frustrates you that people still attend hate rallies and curl their lips at your bestial friends when really they were just afraid of what they aren't used to. Sure, the discrimination monsters faced in current society rivals that of human-based discriminations, but still. It almost seemed to faze you more than it does your magical pals.

It wasn't like you were the only human on the floor, though.

Sounds of gunfire from outside your window made you jolt up so fast you could have sworn you got whiplash. The police sirens wailed and shut off, flashing lights shining through your window and illuminating the ratty wallpaper. Normally, you would be ducking for cover or hustling to find anything to defend yourself with, but this was sadly a normal occurrence on weekends and you had become used to it.

You decide to stay up for a little while longer. Some gang members on the scene might ask you to provide information, or, even worse, the police would. You get up, throw on your nightcoat and wander out of your room.

Another reason why this apartment, maybe, wasn't the best was due to 70% of its residents being affiliated with The Underground, one of the biggest mafias in Ebott Village. Including yourself.

You don't feel shameful for it anymore, you were directly involved with an underground crime organization, albeit in one of the most innocent ways possible.

A novice doctor.

You don't know any fancy healing magic like your neighbour, nor have the time or the money to cook up monster-food (that stuff can literally save lives), but you are an absolute wizard with the first aid kit and could even stitch up serious wounds. Despite their endless resources, you are quite the valuable asset to The Underground, due to the vast amount of respect you garnered in the criminal underworld.

Your patience and kindness with monsters and humans alike put your name on the map of every mafia boss in town, though, never maliciously, your reputation in Ebott Village was that of a saint, always willing to stitch anyone back up and send them home with a smile and a full tummy. The boys would call you "Sweet Tooth" because you had a running gag of giving them cheap lollipops after their treatments.

Your status did come with some risk, though. You had been in trouble with the police for harbouring fugitives, but Asgore's impressive legal team sorted that out for you. Your apartment tended to be investigated due to it being a refuge for members of The Underground.

Although you sometimes would disagree, you had also been known by the mob boys for your innocent charm and stunning looks as well. Some of them had started calling you "Doctor Heartbreak" after you gently turned them down, jokingly of course. You giggled at the thought.

Wandering into the kitchen, you flick the kettle on and begin to prepare some tea. The shouting outside had died down now, and it was only a matter of time before someone came for help or answers. You sighed in contentment, you booked the entire week off from work for finals and you had just submitted your last assignment hours earlier. This week seemed like a pretty relaxing one, or so you thought.

Five knocks on the door broke the silence, and two softer ones cause you to glance at the door excitedly. The knocking only meant one thing: some of your favourite people in the west-end coming to visit.

Those boys...

The relationship between you and the skeletons is incredibly difficult to pinpoint.

First of all, you knew almost nothing about them, aside from their family dynamics, and even that was a stretch. Secondly, they were incredibly dangerous, seeing as they the most fearsome reputations in Ebott Village's crime world, and thirdly, they were the most interesting bags of bones you had ever met. They were also the only skeletons you could meet, anyway, but that didn't stop your admiration.

You heard the door unlock and open, two sighs of relief were heard from behind it when the intruders notice the lights are on. You aren't afraid; Papyrus made sure your entire floor was guarded in routine shifts. Security was nice.

"heya, kid." A low baritone voice sounded out, and you didn't even have to guess who it belonged to. 

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the Violet Hearts," you began, teasingly, your back turned and fishing around in your cabinets for some chamomile you "borrowed" from work once. "Don't you two boneheads have anything better to do than bother a sweet young lass so late at night?"

"heh, you're patell-in' me." A rougher voice called, its owner closing the door behind him.

You giggle, pulling out three mugs and plopping a teabag in each, boiling water following suit. You sigh, turning around to properly greet your guests, but whatever you had to say died mid-sentence.

"hey, don't look so sternum."

Panic rose in your chest as you eyed your skeletal company.

"Sans," you breathe, "Red," You instantly forgot about the tea and ripped open your medical cabinet. "what in the absolute _fuck_ happened to you two."

"you should see the other guys." Sans drawls, scratching his arm through his winter jacket.

"...what's left of em, anyways." Red looks at the floor.

You feel like you're about to vomit.


	2. Chamomile & Lollipops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obliviousness will only get you so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay wow needless to say I was ecstatic over how well received my 1000-some word chapter was and I had to continue....also plushysins would have travelled to Canada to put me in the ground if I abandoned this LOL
> 
> jokes, jokes. I hope you guys like this because its gonna take a very long time to get through what I have planned.

You let out a deep breath, a hand coming up to massage your temples in an attempt to quell your worry-induced nausea. “You guys have got to be…ugh, Jesus Christ.”

“heh, actually, the names-” You shoot him a glare and Sans’ joke died on his non-existent tongue. Red’s grin grew in amusement.

You dig into your medicine cabinet, pulling out your trusty first-aid kit, along with a bottle of seatea ointment Toriel had bought you after discovering your hobby of playing doctor late at night.

You motion to them to remove their hats, ushering them both into the light of the kitchen to get a proper look, immediately grimacing at the sight. Both of their outfits were coated in what looked like blood and you had noticed they tracked in a few crimson footprints, but the bleach and stain remover would have to come later. Glancing at their faces, you knit your brows in worry. Their skulls were littered with little cuts and bruises, a few open wounds standing out amongst the smaller ones. To your relief, most of the blood on them wasn’t their own, but you could still see the glowing rose monster-blood on Red’s cheeks and electric blue between Sans’ eye sockets, both so saturated it almost hurt to look at. The brothers removed their gloves, and you noticed Red's were kaiser-spiked. How fitting. Both of their knuckle joints were coated in their own blood, most likely from throwing too many punches.

“Strip,” you bark, failing to fight back a laugh when Red spluttered. “Come on, I need to check the rest of you two to make sure you’re fine. What kind of doctor would I be if I didn’t tend to my patients properly?” Your reassurance didn’t stop them from stiffening to the point where they resembled science class anatomy models.

“wow, kiddo,” Sans rubbed the back of his skull. “i had no idea you were so eager to _jump our bones_ that quickly.”

You roll your eyes and look at Red, who suddenly found the floor very interesting. He was shaking slightly, his red pupils tiny dots and his cheeks wore a scarlet hue. “y-yeah, _talus_ the truth, tooth.”

The room was silent for a moment, before you and Sans burst into laughter. It was such a surprise, Red never made puns! Sans patted his partner on the back, and his cheekbones darkened even more as he stared at your giggling face. He looked pretty pleased with himself.

“Ah,” you breathed, regaining your composure and pacing back to the abandoned kettle. “Seriously though, both of you need to take off your shirts so I can inspect the wounds, I doubt they just end at your clavicles. Pull up some chairs and sit down, and I’ll finish making that tea for the both of you.”

You remove each of the teabags, placing them into a bowl before digging into the fridge to pull out some ketchup and mustard bottles. Your lip instinctively curled as you squirted some ketchup into Sans’ mug and mustard into Red’s, just the way they liked it. You tried to ignore the stove clock and scooped up the mugs and bowl with your expert tea-serving skills you learned from work.

“Order up,” you smirked, turning around and placing them on the island counter. “chamomile with a complimentary spike.”

“i think you mean, _condimentary_.” Sans winked, and you put a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle.

The skeletons follow your orders, their bloody jackets landing on the floor with a heavy slop, stained turtlenecks and undershirts reluctantly following suit. Now that their ribcages were exposed, you were relieved to see that only a few cuts and bruises dipped past their clavicles and neckline. However, this was the first time you saw their bodies up close, and curiosity got the best of you; you continue your staring.

Sans and Red sure looked like twins. Their facial features were almost in the same position, the only differences being the crimson bags underneath Red’s eye sockets, and the burning red pupils at home inside, as opposed to Sans’ white. Both had permanent grins on their faces, sharp teeth making them look almost intimidating if you didn’t know them. Red’s shark-like teeth were dotted with four prominent canines, one of which being a massive gold _spear_  that dwarfed the rest of them. Sans had canines too, although they were noticeably smaller and much more uniform with the rest of his grin.

Looking at their bones, their anatomy was so similar to a human skeleton but so…not at the same time. Both were the definition of big boned: their ribs were incredibly thick, along with their ulnas, radiuses and humeri. Their skulls looked to be larger than your entire head, and their spines looked like small branches of a tree. It was then you noticed the curvature of Red’s spine, causing him to slouch and appear shorter than his partner. Glancing up, you noticed how their cervical vertebrae grew into wider disks, creating a thicker neck that stretched to meet their sternum and scapula. It dawns on you that these boys weren’t _actual_ skeletons, but rather monsters that just _looked_ like skeletons. Their ribcages were so wide it seemed like they had chests. They have stunted torsos and what looked like massive pelvis bones jutting out from their waistbands-

“like what ya see?” Sans’ teasing baritone snaps you out of your daze. You met his half-lidded eyes and he was smirking, looking rather pleased with himself while he plays with the waistband of his shorts, the thumb rubbing his hipbones. _Oh god,_ you were totally just caught staring at his crotch, and you flush in embarrassment. Red couldn’t meet your gaze. He crosses his arms and slumps down into his chair with a bony click.

“O-oh, my bad,” you stutter. “It’s just, your bones are so un-human." 

“is that a bad thing?” he asks. Your arms raise up in mock-defense and Red snorted again.

“No! No, of course not.” You clear your throat, trying to change the topic. You turn to gather the tea and thrust it in their hands. “I seasoned them the way you two like, also,” you paused to reach over the counter and grab the teabags, tossing them in their direction, which they both catch effortlessly. “You guys can eat these if you want.”

“niiiiice,” Sans drawls, leaning back while opening his jaw and dropping it in, like a cat would to a mouse in a children’s cartoon. Red grunts a thank you and practically inhales it before sipping some of his tea. These two would never cease to surprise you, no matter how many times they drank condiments or devoured the used teabags which, in your opinion, belong in the trash.

“Okay then, you’re up, Red,” the skeleton in question pauses mid-sip and quirks a bony brow. You stroll over to him and take a seat on his leg, pulling the disinfectant out of the kit. Red’s skull practically turns into a tomato. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

 

\----

 

“ah! e-easy there, tooth.” Red recoils from the alcoholic wipe you slathered across his skull. You clean the shallow cuts and bruises, scrubbing furiously at the bloodstains, then daub the ointment onto the wounds. His eye sockets went dark and he began to sweat, his clawed fingers scratching your chair impatiently as he waits out the stinging pains.

“Zip it, golden boy,” you sigh, flipping your hair over your shoulder to work without interruption. “You’re my patient now, and patients don’t get lollipops if they complain.”

You started calling Red “golden boy” shortly after he, Sans and Papyrus had moved into your complex. The nickname came from his shimmering tooth and stuck after Sans had teased him about it in front of everyone at a dinner party and he got so flustered he left. He didn’t seem to mind as much when you had played along, though. 

Red grumbles, continuing to squirm while Sans chuckled on the chair next to him. The white lights he called pupils are trained on your careful movements.

“jeez tooth, at this rate, you’ll sand him down to nothin’.” You smile, continuing your ministrations.

“He might end up looking more handsome when I’m done,” you giggle. “Now stay still, it only hurts more if you move around. I really don’t feel like sweeping you up into a dustpan after going through all this trouble.”

Sans visibly flinched at your joke.

“I was really worried, you know.” You yawn, the late hours finally getting to you. “You two walking in here covered in blood, even if most of it wasn’t yours.”

The boys remained silent, and your brow furrows in concern.

“What happened out there? Am I right in assuming you two were the reason the police were called?”

“you could say that.” Sans says, rubbing his split knuckles, suddenly making you wonder how bone could split. “i guess your ‘no fighting indoors’ rule doesn’t really stretch to outside your window.”

You huff, and he winks at you.

“Quit being vague. Out with it, boneheads.”

“a monster was dusted,” Red said quietly, and you look at him in slight surprise. He would never admit they were coming to visit you before turning in for the night. “they tried to jump us on the way home, but we could sense them blocks away. hatred like that isn’t so easily masked.” Sans grunted in agreement. The news was a little astonishing.

“Jesus, that’s horrible. What kind of sociopaths would do that?”

“some chumps called magician’s crew, they even left the ashes in plain sight.” Sans opens his jaw and you watched as the rest of his tea disappears into the darkness of his mouth. You realize you were staring once more, and turn back to Red, who hissed as you rub the wipe in between his bloodied phalanges. 

“So…what happened to them?”

Their silence was enough of an answer. You sigh, knowing that you would probably have to speak with the police at some point in the morning. The fact that both of your new friends were so desensitized to murder made your skin crawl in what you would have liked to believe was disgust, but faint chills of excitement travel up your spine at the thought. You shake your head as if to banish the thoughts, tossing the antiseptic wipe into the garbage. You replace the wipe with a fresh one and stand up off Red's thigh, who grumbles a thank-you.

“You two must really live up to your reputation, then.” You are met with more silence as you situate yourself on Sans’ femur, giving him the same treatment. Blood is surprisingly difficult to remove from bone.

You hum a tune to yourself, Sans’ eye sockets closing as you carefully dab at his magical wounds, patching it up with the seatea ointment. Red sips at his mustard-y tea in contentment. Despite the events of the evening, a peaceful atmosphere quickly enveloped the room as you cleaned Sans’ bloodied bones.

However, a few timid knocks on the door pull you out of it.

“Hello? I heard voices and I wanted to check if everything was alright,” a gentle voice called out, muffled through the wood of the door, and you stand up off of Sans' thigh to answer it. Red eyes the door suspiciously as you go to unlock it.

Opening the door, you are greeted with the fluffy sight of your neighbour. “Oh, hey Toriel." 

“_____!” The goat-woman exclaims, her paws clasping over her chest in obvious worry. “Are you alright, my friend?” You nod, waving her off.

“Yeah, I’m good. Kind of a rude awakening if you ask me, right?” Your lighthearted joke fell on large, floppy deaf ears.

“Frisk and I heard fighting and police sirens, and I wanted to ensure your safety.” Concern etched itself into her wrinkled eyes, and you give her a genuine smile. Her worry was nothing but heartwarming.

“I’m quite alright, thank you. Sans and Red stopped by, if you wanted to come in for a bit.” 

Toriel nodded, relieved. "Sure, _____, I'd love to see them, but only for a moment. Frisk is sleeping next-door, after all."

“yo, tori.” Sans waves from his chair, and Red lazily raises a hand in her direction. You noticed they had their undershirts back on, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding—the last thing you wanted was Toriel getting any ideas. You knew the three of them were old friends, but still, no risks. Toriel was quite the matchmaker, as much as she'd like to deny it, and two half-naked skeletons sprawled out in your apartment wouldn't look so good. Not to mention you were straddling one of them moments ago. 

Thankfully, you had cleaned the boys up to the point where they both looked presentable, unlike the bloody messes they were when they walked in. Toriel, as the ex-wife of Asgore, the head honcho of The Underground (or so you had been told) knew not to ask questions about matters that no longer involved her. That didn’t stop her from thrusting her concern wherever it needed to be, and in this case, it was in Sans and Red’s scarred faces.

After a few minutes of scolding, and a short spiel on ‘how could you wake this poor girl up after midnight and make her wash your faces and chests?’, Toriel and Sans were chatting casually. You notice that every once in a while, Toriel would warily cast sideways glances at Red, who was fiddling with belt loops. If you hadn't known any better, you would guess her expression was riddled with...Suspicion?

You glance at the clock and wince. It was a few hours past midnight, and you did plan on getting some sleep eventually.

“hey,” Red sounded from behind you. You turned to him, and he was sweating again.

“Hey,” your voice riddled with apprehension, “You’re sure you’re alright? I know you guys do shit like this all the time, but…”

“me n' sans? yeah. w-we’re fine, a-and,” he took a sharp inhale, composing himself. “that’s no fibula.”

Once again, Red caught you off guard, and you laugh into your hand, his deep cackle joining you shortly after. You thought his anxious demeanour was kind of endearing. You almost didn't notice the smile on his face, so wide it threatened to break his cheekbones. 

"Oh, good heavens. It is much too late for me to be here, and the same goes for you two," Toriel eyed the skeletons sternly, but with a hint of playfulness in her gaze. "_______ needs her sleep. I must check on my child as well." Sans hummed in agreement as the goat-woman strolled to the door. She waved a thanks and farewell before ducking out of the door and back across the hall. The three of you were left in silence. 

“Did you boys want any food? Ketchup or mustard for the road?” You offer, feeling guilty that all you had to offer was tea. Well, tea and medicinal wipes.

Sans waves you off, probably not wanting to trouble you any further while gathering up his and Red’s clothes in the laundry baskets you lent them for the night. “nah, we’re good, t.”

“Are you sure?” You yawn, nearly wobbling from the sheer force of it. “The walk from here to the end of the hall is quite the journey for a lazybones like you, Sans.”

He chuckles and walks to the door. “yo, red, you coming? or are you gonna act like a free _loader_ for the rest of the night?” He shakes the laundry basket for emphasis.

Red chuckles and shakes his head, keeping pace with his twin brother who had already ventured out into the hall. You stepped outside to join them.

“thanks again, doll.” Sans winked at you, a genuine smile on his face. It was so unlike his usual grins and smirks he shot your way. This was the first 'real' one you had recieved since you introduced yourself a month ago. Your chest warmed with delight.

“No need to thank me, boys. It is my job, after all,” you rub your arm, sheepishly. “I expect those hampers back at some point, Mr. Snowdin.”

He chuckled deeply and turned away before snapping his phalanges and blinking out of sight.

Red began to walk to his room, but you grabbed at his jacket before he could leave. He stops and turns to you.

“I almost forgot,” you smile, fishing around in your hoodie pockets for a special gift. You pulled out a cherry red lollipop and held it out to him expectantly. “They don’t call me Sweet Tooth for nothing.”

He eyes you for a moment, before snatching the sweet snack, speed-walking down the hall and around the corner. As you are alone in the hall, your yawns came back in full-force. With the grace of a toddler first learning how to walk, you stumble back into your apartment as the exhaustion hit. You land on your bed with a slump, thoughts of those skeletons laughing with you and hanging out like you wanted drift through your head as you finally nod off for a good night’s sleep.

 

\----

 

Red slams the door to his apartment so loud it could have woken his neighbours at this ungodly hour, but he didn’t give a shit. He ran to his room, shutting the door and locking it before slumping down onto the floor. His magic hums rhythmically throughout his bones, heat coating his face as he relays the evening in his mind over, and over, and over again.

You, sitting on his femur and giggling, laughing at some puns that _he_ came up with, not Sans. _He_ was the one who put such a smile on your face, and your laughter bubbled in his chest to the point where it threatened to burst along with his magic.

The tea you made, with the fucking delicious condiment spike. How caring you were, to let them in that late and take care of both him _and_ Sans when they easily could have just showered and dealt with the pain—and he was sure you knew that, but _no_ —you made sure they were okay, you knew how dangerous they were and what kind of god awful shit they’ve done but that didn’t stop you. Red's soul was pulsing on a content beat, magic butterflies fluttering through his ribcage and tickling his bones as he thought back to your smile, your wit, your hospitality, the way your hair flipped behind your head and bended like a silky river and how soft you looked. How much he wanted to feel your skin against his rough bones, smell more of your sweet, addictive aroma…

God, you were too good for him.

**But that does not have to be the end of it.**

Red grips at his t-shirt, gritting his teeth and growling at the sudden overwhelming headache.

**How many nights will be like this, Sans?**

“sh-shut up!” Red grips at his skull, squeezing as hard as he could as if to expel whatever slinked itself into the back of his mind.

**Do not forget about your prior obligations. Getting lost in the present details is no way to uphold a bargain.**

"my name-"

A particular pulse of pain coursed through his skull, and Red cries out in agony. He felt as if his head was going to collapse in on itself, eyes straining to keep open as he tries to keep his breathing straight. 

**DO NOT. DISAPPOINT ME.**

As quickly as it started, the pain vanished, leaving Red a dishevelled, panting wreck on the carpet. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a cherry lollipop. He stood up and placed it on his bedside table, glancing out the window at the deserted streets of downtown.

“i’m not going to.”

Not if it’s for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Advil, anyone?
> 
> Just letting you guys know updates will be scarce because it's midterm season and I actually need to pass my classes. 
> 
> I'm real sorry for timeliness but its only gonna get worse before it's better?? 
> 
> thanks everyone for the kudos and lovely comments:)
> 
> ps: as i figure out how the hell this website works i have discovered the rich text editor and suddenly there is meaning in my life once more
> 
> feel free to yell at me at http://bonethot.tumblr.com


	3. The Love-Seat Triangle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One-Piece waits for no one.

Sans never liked a messy job.

As recently-minted bounty hunters, Asgore had made it clear to them that rule number one in this line of work was to know absolutely _everything_ there is to know about a case before taking it, and that went double for improvised or last-minute targets. Despite his soft demeanor, the leader of The Underground was a strict coach when it came to Sans and Red’s training, and had instilled habits of both cleanliness and efficiency in their work at a very early stage, especially the knowledge aspect.

Hiding evidence and covering tracks was easy work for Sans and Red, as the both of them were rarely harmed on the job, aside from when their cover was blown or they were up against a particularly daunting bounty. Of course, mistakes happened here and there, but it was never anything too severe.

It was never anything that managed to land them in your “office”.

Sans scratches his skull and grumbles in annoyance, watching his bloodstained clothes bounce around in the washing machine. It was undeniable to say that last night had been a _very_ messy job. Only problem was, those goons that he and Red had dealt with were supposed to be bottom feeders, nothing more than the lowest level of Magician’s Crew. It made absolutely no sense that they could put up enough of a fight that they _almost_ had to put in effort to kill them. Maybe it was overkill that he and Red transformed almost thirty men into Ebott’s largest skid-mark, but hey, they did dust an innocent girl.

Heh, over _kill_.

After folding up his now-dry pile of clothes, Sans pulls out his phone and opens up his contacts.

 

**_sans 10:03 AM_ **

_red we need to talk. im in the laundry room._

 

No more than two minutes went by before his flip-phone buzzed.

 

**_cherry boy 10:05 AM_ **

_can it wait_

 

Sighing, Sans hammers out a response. His bones made the key clicking on the phone much louder than it should be.

 

**_sans 10:06 AM_ **

_it’s a **red** alert._

 

He smirks at the screen.

 

**_cherry boy 10:06 AM_ **

_…fuck off_

 

Sans sits himself down on the laundromat counter. Whatever conversation they were about to have was only for their ears, or lack thereof, and luckily the place was empty.

As if on queue, the entry bells jingle and in came a disheveled-looking Red from the frigid outdoors, wrapped so tightly in his scarf Sans thought he looked like he belonged in a sarcophagus. Only his eyes were visible and his jacket hood was pulled over his skull so far that it nearly covered them. Sans almost snorts at the sight.

“jeez cherry, ya tryin’ to hide from humanity or somethin’?”

“ngh, shut up,” Red’s voice was muffled from his scarf before he removed it. “an’ don’t call me that either!”

“ok, _mummy._ ”

Red scoffs, his grin twitching wider. Sans and Red had their differences, but beneath it all they share a love of puns, even if Red barely cracked any. Also, they are both amazing at murder.

“the magician’s cocksuckers know who we are now. ain’t keepin’ a low profile a must?”

“well, yeah, but that ain’t a reason to walk around like a shady murderer. seriously bud, ya look like ya just hid a body in the dumpster out back.”

Red grumbles, rolling his eyes. “whatever. i was sleeping, why’d ya wake me up?" 

Sans’ grin fell slightly. 

“last night sure was somethin’, huh?” Staring at the washing machine, Red let his partner continue.

“it shouldn’ta went down like that,” Sans said, more seriously, “the last time we got scuffed up so badly was when we did our last takeover. yeah, those clowns from the alley had a lot of LV in their souls, and a lot of hatred, but we’ve dealt with way worse.” Red hummed in agreement.

“there was somethin’ else in their souls, too. it was magic. saw it while we were lookin’ for ‘em after we found that trail of dust.”

“that’s impossible,” Red huffed. “humans can’t do magic unless they steal the soul of something strong, like a boss monster or some shit. and i’m pretty sure there ain’t thirty-some boss monsters in Ebott.”

“that’s the thing, cher’,” Sans locked eyes with him. “the magic didn’t come from inside of their souls. it came from the outside.”

Red’s eye sockets widen.

“yeah, it ain’t pretty. someone in this city is making our enemies a hell of a lot tougher than they should. still can’t believe i let one of ‘em land a right hook.” Sans rubs his thumb on the cheek bandage you had applied earlier.

Red scratches his skull. “seriously? what kinda sick _fuck_ of a monster would wanna give a helping hand to the same morons who want us all dusted?”

“no idea, pal. only clue i got was some weird substance leaking out of their souls like a faucet.” 

“and what _substance_ was that?” Red mocks.

“it looked like black tar.”

The vibrations of Sans’ Nokia startles both of the skeletons. Neither had realized how quiet the room had become.

Sans quickly flips his phone open, his grin stretching wider when the screen shows a hidden number.

“y’ello?”

Thank god for the distraction. Red began to sweat bullets; black tar around a soul didn’t exactly spell out good things. If it was anything like he thought it was, if it was anything like hers… 

He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. Red couldn’t hear who was on the line, but it didn’t take much to infer. 

“heya grillbz’,” Sans chuckles. “your majesty wants to see the violet hearts? can’t he wait? i’m kinda doing laundry. no? hey, grillbz, no need to get so _heated_. we’ll be there in ten.” Sans snaps his phone shut, smiling wider as he notices Red’s expression.

“heated,” Red snickers, wiping his brow. “nice.”

“i’m texting pap to come and finish the laundry for us. we, apparently, have a date with royalty.”

 

* * *

 

 

Your first thought was that the TV show ‘How to Get Away with Murder’ made this seem a lot easier than it actually was. Your second was that maybe, just maybe, you should invest in a plastic mat for dirty footwear, and a couple more cans of bleach.

The police had shown up at your door earlier to ask some questions about the events that took place last night. You lied, saying you slept through the whole thing, and you weren’t entirely positive that they bought it—a machine gun was fired after all—but you commended yourself for not stuttering once, despite the footprints of blood literally making a pathway into your apartment from outside. The alleyway outside of your window was coated in the stuff. Ebott Village’s police force is a pretty big joke, you figured, because all they left with was a warning to ‘be wary of a mass murderer in this area’. Had you not known the full story, you would have been terrified.  

Scrubbing the blood-stained floor on your hands and knees for the umpteenth time, you start to regret playing Doctor Heartbreak after the sun goes down. You feel defeated; you are exhausted from just going to bed hours ago, your kitchen is a mess of first-aid and medicinal supplies, and you’re pretty sure you’re just uselessly moving blood around on your hardwood floor instead of actually cleaning it. Your fingers start to wrinkle inside of your rubber gloves, and they feel clammy.

You’re on the verge of giving up until you hear a knock at the door. Panicking, you peel off your gloves and toss them in the general direction of the kitchen. They land on the spice rack, knocking a few bottles of cilantro to the floor with a loud shatter. _Fuck,_ you’re totally gonna have to clean that up too.

“HELLO? ARE YOU OKAY IN THERE, HUMAN?” The voice sounded from behind your door, but you recognize it. You’re relieved to not have to play hide-the-incriminating-evidence from possible police officers, especially when it was currently spread out on your floor in a soapy crimson foam.

Strolling over and opening the door, you’re greeted by the beaming face of your nine-foot tall skeleton floormate. Like always, he’s wearing a knitted sweater with the words ‘BATTLE BODY’ stitched on the chest. You flash him a cheery smile.

“Hello, Papyrus!”

“HELLO, HUMAN! NICE DAY WE’RE HAVING, WOULDN’T YOU AGREE?” Papyrus’ attempt at small talk was awkward, but you’d be lying if his loud voice didn’t make your grumpiness evaporate.

“Dude,” you laugh, “It’s minus twenty out and we can’t see the sun.”

“NO MATTER! THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL NEVER BE SKEPTICAL OF THINGS HE HAS NO SUCH CONTROL ON!” Papyrus always provided a too-optimistic perspective.

“So, what brings you here?”

Your answer came in the form of your laundry basket being gingerly placed in your hands. For such an intense person, Papyrus was so…gentle.

“WELL, ACTUALLY,” he began, “UNDYNE AND I ARE ABOUT TO WATCH OUR MONDAY MORNING CARTOONS, AND ALPHYS HAS GONE TO WORK EARLY, AND WE REQUIRE A THIRD PERSON TO COMPLETE OUR LOVE-SEAT TRIANGLE, AND SANS WAS TOO LAZY TO FINISH HIS LAUNDRY THIS MORNING SO I FINISHED IT FOR HIM, BUT REALIZED THAT YOU WOULD PERHAPS NEED YOUR HAMPER SO I CAME HERE TO DELIVER IT WITH A SIDE OF INVITING YOU TO OUR LIVING ROOM FOR CAMARADERIE AND…ANIME?”

Papyrus spoke a mile a minute, his voice trailing off after each word, looking at the ground. He looked rather nervous. 

Wait, love-seat triangle?

Taking a minute to process what he said, you nod enthusiastically. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” His expression morphs instantly to that of pure glee. “But, I still have chores to do. I can finish them before I come over-”

“NONSENSE! I WILL HELP YOU ACCOMPLISH THEM FASTER!” He cut you off, pushing past you and into your apartment. It was somewhat surprising that he could stand at full height and not touch the ceiling. You set the hamper down and close your door, admitting defeat. He took one look around your living room and kitchen area before letting out a shriek.

“WOWIE! FOR SUCH A NON-DIRTY PERSON YOU ARE ALMOST AS UNCLEAN AS MY BROTHER!”

“Thanks.” You say bluntly, reaching for a new pair of gloves from the hall closet. You had noticed a while ago that Papyrus’ diction was weird.

Turning around, you’re rather amazed at the sight. Papyrus has already managed to sweep up the bottle pieces, broken glass, and most of the cilantro flakes scattered across your kitchen floor. He’s beaming.

“W-wow, Papyrus, thank you!” You clasp your hands, enamoured with his illogical cleaning speeds.  “You didn’t have to help, really-”

“WORRY NOT, DOCTOR-HUMAN!” He exclaims, his sweater seeming to billow behind him in imaginary wind. “WHATEVER WILL BRING YOU FASTEST TO THE LAIR OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS!" 

Allowing Papyrus to work faster than any maid on the planet, you get back to scrubbing the boys’ bloody boot prints off of your floor. Sans had explicitly told you that Papyrus is not involved in The Underground, and to your knowledge, Papyrus is also unaware of his and Red’s job descriptions, despite having some form of influence amongst members himself. It must be tricky to constantly lie to their hulking younger brother, but Papyrus’ innocence was something you decided should be protected at all costs, and those boneheads were sure to agree.

You toss your second pair of rubber gloves into the blood-soap water bucket when suddenly your door dramatically slams open, causing you to shriek and jump so high you were almost eye-level with Papyrus.

“NGAAHHHHH! I’M TIRED OF SITTING AROUND!” The volume of the shout was enough to make some frames wobble from their spots on the wall.

The teal, scaled face of Undyne marches into your living room, her arms acting like a shopping cart for countless pillows, cushions, and blankets, eyes glowering at you, and baring her jagged teeth in a menacing overbite. With her scarlet locks covering her bad eye, she looks as if she were about to tear your throat out. Thankfully, you knew she was just way too excited for anime. 

You could also tell by her sporty ‘Shonen Jump!’ sweater.

“UNDYNE!” Papyrus whines, heartbroken. “AREN’T WE WAITING TO START THE MARATHON IN MY ROOM? WE EVEN HAD THE LOVE-SEAT TRIANGLE SET UP…”

The fish woman flexes her biceps, grinning maniacally. “One Piece waits for NO-ONE, Papyrus!”

“Uhh, hey, Undyne?” You wave, sheepishly.

“Heya, doc!” She dumps the mess of comfort and comfort foods all over the floor before walking up to you and slinging an arm over your shoulder. “Long time no see. How ya been holdin’ up without the extra muscle around here?”

“I’ve been good, Undyne,” you say, “It’s nice to see you after so long! Where did you run off to?”

She fills you in—to an extent—on her current assignment, under Asgore’s orders, of investigating a human-only gang that has recently been making a comeback in the crime world.

You and Undyne became acquainted the same night you agreed to play doctor around a month ago. Apparently, Asgore had assigned her to guard your floor out of safety concerns, much to Papyrus’ delight as the two of them got to hang out much more often. You had just started to become more than mere acquaintances before Asgore lifted the concerns and she moved out to live with her girlfriend, whom you hadn’t met. Seeing her again excited you somewhat, maybe the two of you could finally be friends.

From what you knew, Undyne was the head of The Underground’s security. During a dinner party at Toriel’s apartment, she had mentioned that she was pretty much tasked with finding the source of potential gang threats and annihilating them. You were unsure of what “annihilating” meant in her words, but you would be lying if you thought Undyne being a killer was unsettling. You were so numb to murder at this point that the mention of it rarely made you feel anything but faint excitement. It was more of a cheap thrill at this point.

The subject of Undyne’s assignment sounds awfully familiar.

“Ah…” You start, fumbling with your memories, “I thin I recall…”

Undyne looks at you quizzically, her comically large teeth pinching her bottom lip. You just cannot seem to remember the name Sans mentioned just last night.

“Nevermind, I thought of something to say but must’ve forgotten, You say, smiling.

Exhaustion made your head ache.

“Hi _____!” A high-pitched voice jolts you from your thoughts, and you’re delighted to see the only other human on the floor sitting on one of your kitchen island stools. You’d have to get back to Undyne later.

“Frisk! How are you, munchkin?” You greet them teasingly, and they giggle, sticking their tongue out at you. You were always happy when they came to visit. Frisk was the first person you met when you moved here, and they helped your mingling with monsters along quite nicely. It would have been much more difficult if they hadn’t taken the initiative to introduce you to their mother, Toriel, and through her, Papyrus, and through him, his brothers. 

Undyne fist-bumped Frisk and left to go help Papyrus set up. Frisk stroked the arm of their knitted sweater, which you assumed to be a gift from Papyrus. It was purple and black.

“Mom went out shopping. She said she was just getting some groceries, but I totally know she’s gonna get me a present. I’m turning fourteen in a week,” they say, smugly. You jokingly scoff, raising your arms up in defense.

“Woah, you rugrat, you’re growing up way too fast.” Frisk frowns at the nickname. Teasing them was always a great time. Your relationship with Frisk had quickly changed from that awkward kid next-door at move-in to the little sibling you wish you always had within a month. Had it been anyone else, you would have thought that was way too little time, but Frisk had such a pleasant energy with them it only took a few days for them to worm their way into your heart.

Papyrus tossed his broom back into your storage closet and hastily gathered the anime materials on your living room floor. He and Undyne spread them out carefully, aligning chairs and cushions to make a symmetrical cuddle-pile of blankets. There were three larger cushions arranged in a triangle, and Papyrus was ecstatic at his love-seat being reborn. 

“THE LOVESEAT HAS BEEN REFORGED!” Papyrus declared, his voice cranked to eleven. “BEHOLD, TINY-HUMAN, DOCTOR HUMAN, UNDYNE! GREATNESS ITSELF IN THE FORM OF PLUSHY HEAVEN!”

“Wait, Pap, there are only three seats, and there’s four of us,” you interject.

Papyrus freezes for a moment, staring at his comfortable creation in shock before Undyne slam dunks the box of Oreos in her hand onto the floor, cookie pieces exploding everywhere. If it wasn’t so funny you would have been annoyed at the prospect of more mess to clean.  

“How did we NOT think of that!?” She cries, and you and Frisk dissolve into fits of laughter. Maybe a love-seat square would have to do.

 

* * *

 

 

“Come on Papyrus, you HAVE to agree. Luffy is the best pirate! He’s so PASSIONATE!” Undyne asserts, her fists clasped over her chest. Papyrus was a little reluctant to answer. 

“I…I MUST DISAGREE! USOPP IS THE BEST PIRATE BECAUSE HE IS UNAFRAID OF SHOWING HIS TRUE COLOURS.”

The two banter back and forth for the length of the entire episode. It pleases you to know that you were entertaining your guests so well, and you thanked their odd obsession with Japanese cartoons. You and Frisk weren’t exactly paying attention to the pirate anime, chatting instead about school, work, anything really. You were working away in your sketchbook, and Frisk was knitting a scarf with some supplies Papyrus brought over. They mentioned how he’d been teaching them, and that he’d made the sweater they were wearing right now for Christmas a few months ago. Red had mentioned that Papyrus even sold items on Etsy.

You yawn, stretching your arms. The four of you had been tangled in the mess of blankets and snacks for almost three hours now, and dinner time was just around the corner. You were so focused on your artwork that you didn’t even notice One Piece being turned off, or your houseguests crowding around you and your sketchbook like a flock of emperor penguins.

“WOWIE, DOCTOR-HUMAN!” Papyrus practically shrieked into your eardrum with how close he was to your face. You feel your ear pop. “THAT LOOKS INCREDIBLE!”

“Thanks, Pap,” You wince, smiling in spite of the injury.

“What is it?” Undyne asks from her spot in front of you. You could only see her eyepatch from where she was sitting but her face still managed to look expressive.

“I drew us, but it’s just a rough sketch. We all look like pirates!” You turn your sketchbook around to show them, pointing as you explained. “Undyne, I made you the captain, Papyrus the first mate, and Frisk and I are swabbies. Think of it as a One Piece tribute.”

Your friends are enraptured with the detail you had managed to put in despite it being a sketch. You were somewhat bashful about showing others your artistic ability, but in retrospect you’re pretty skilled at it. Drawing, painting and blending colours were your biggest hobbies, outside of tea. All of them calmed you down whenever you were anxious, lifted your spirits when you were down and amplified your mood whenever you were cheerful.

Frisk laughed at the drawing, “This is really cool, _____!” You blush at their kindness.

Papyrus was absolutely up the wall with how you had portrayed him. You gave him some cute, flamboyant armour and a little scimitar to match.

“OH MY GOSH! THIS IS THE COOLEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN. I NEED TO SHOW MY BROTHERS!” Papyrus gushes, pulling out his phone to take a photo. You stop him.

“Why don’t you keep it?” You offer, and you’re suddenly afraid his lower jaw might break by how wide his smile was. Before you know it, you’re wrapped in a crushing embrace and the wind was squeezed out of you.

“THANK YOU, DOCTOR-HUMAN!” Despite being a skeleton, his hug wasn’t actually that painful. In fact, it was rather comfortable, and it fills your chest with warmth. 

Undyne opened her mouth to say something before her phone went off. You noticed the ringtone was the opening theme song from One Piece.

“Asgore?” She chirps, sitting up immediately and walking out of earshot. Her expression had morphed to a serious one. You had forgotten temporarily that you were literally spending the afternoon innocently watching anime, sketching, and knitting with a gang member. You laugh to yourself, thinking of Sans and Red too. The ability to maintain such warmth and friendliness in the wake of their criminal lifestyles is something that often surprises you.   

Undyne was back in the room as quickly as she left. 

“Sorry, guys,” She says, crestfallen. “Boss called me in for an emergency meeting.”

Papyrus and Frisk shared a sigh. You’re kind of disappointed she was leaving so early, but relieved that it was almost time to wind down and relax.

“That’s alright, Undyne,” You tell her. “It was fun. Thanks for coming today!”

She grins, running to Frisk and giving them a quick noogie—much to Frisk’s dismay—before tossing her coat on and dashing out the door. You’re still exhausted from being up so late and you felt the need to go to bed early in case there was a repeat of last night’s Violet Hearts escapade later on. 

As if on queue with your ‘everyone get out of my apartment’ thoughts, a timid, yet firm knock—Toriel’s knock, you had come to realize—sounded on the door. You call for her to come in.

“Goodness me, you three look comfy!” She exclaims, her paws clasped over her heart like a schoolgirl. She must have thought it was the cutest thing ever.

“Good afternoon, your majesty!” Papyrus quickly gathered up his knitting supplies, handing the half-scarf back to Frisk.

“Hey mom,” Frisk calls.

She nods to you in greeting. “My child, I have finished the grocery shopping. I am going to start dinner shortly and would love if you could help me stir the pasta!” She looks at Frisk expectantly. 

They huffed. “I was having fun here, mom.”

“I know, Frisk, but it is time for us to go home now.” 

“Can’t you do it yourself? I’m busy.”

Toriel looks somewhat hurt. “My child, we need to go home now. We’ve imposed enough.”

Frisk scoffed, standing up and pulling out their phone, condescendingly waving it in front of her. “Whatever. You could have just texted me.”

Toriel looked confused, but turned to you with a tired smile. 

“Thank you for watching Frisk for me,” she breathes, “Thank you too, Papyrus.”

Frisk grumbles something under their breath before heading out the door. They didn’t even say goodbye to you. Toriel waves apologetically before heading out behind them.

You look at Papyrus and he shrugs, and then a lightbulb flashes over his head.

“WAIT, YOUR MAJESTY!” Papyrus was already scrambling for the door. “DID YOU MENTION YOU HAD PASTA THAT NEEDED STIRRING?”

He stops before leaving and turns to you, waving. “THANKS AGAIN FOR ALL OF THIS, HUMAN! IT WAS EVEN MORE FUN THAT WE GOT TO PLATONICALLY DATE IN YOUR HOUSE INSTEAD OF MINE!”

You barely choke out a response before the door slams shut and you’re left alone again. The pile of blankets, that did not belong to you, are coated in Oreo crumbs. The mess was…cleanable, if not easy, to take care of, but…

You make a beeline for the couch, opting for a nap instead. You seriously need to wind down after all of that socializing.

 

* * *

 

Red always thought that when a job went south, it got a lot more fun.

Fighting was something Red couldn’t get enough of. There was almost nothing better than asserting himself over others, finding dominance through bones and cartilage cracking under his fists, and sticking it to a bunch of assholes who completely and utterly deserved the punishment he delivered with his scarlet magic. The fact that he got paid to do it was icing on the cake.

Last night had been a disaster, though, and Red certainly agreed with Sans in that regard, especially in how he had let those scummy humans land a few punches on him. He cursed under his breath at the memory.

Red closely followed Sans as they walk to Grillby’s, but he was unsure why they didn’t just teleport to get there like they always did. He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, grumbling.

“if ya told me we were walking, blue, i would’a just brought my bike.”

Sans didn’t reply, and Red immediately picked up on the mood. Sans always chastised him about that nickname, so he must be more worried than he let on.

It only took a few minutes to make it to Grillby’s. The bar was practically a second home for the two skeletons and they were reminded of it every time they stepped inside. As one of the most popular bars in Ebott, there was always _something_ going on there, and Grillby’s carried an atmosphere that drew the attention of just about anyone. Of course, it was a monster owned establishment, and as a result there were usually more monsters there than humans, which caused some to stay away from it. That wasn’t exactly a loss, though. The last time a racist tried to enter they literally had to be _scrubbed_ off of the floor, and Red made sure of that.

Grillby’s was _the_ hangout for members of The Underground. It was where information traders swapped material, scalpers shared loot, druggies dispersed their wares, drinks were had, and laughter was shared. It was also a place the skeletons would wind down after successfully hitting a mark. Sans knew just about everyone by name. Red, not so much. 

The bar seems to erupt with shouts and excitement the minute they step foot inside. Despite his anxiety, Sans still makes sure to greet everyone as they make their way through the dingy bar, replying to as many heys, hellos, and ‘where’ve ya been’s as possible. Some are directed at Red, but he ignores them. Like always. Red loves Grillby’s deep down, even if the smoky scent and nine-out-of-ten-times shit music was a little too much to handle now and then, but hey, it has alcohol.

“heya, grillbz,” Sans calls from across the counter, his phalanges tapping against the wood as he and Red lean against it. The fire elemental shifts from his vibrant orange flame to a purplish red, and Sans scoffs. “were ya that worried about us? red was here last week.” His flames formed a blue tint. “grillbz, come on,” Sans chides, “you know there’s nothin’ lamer than coming to a bar and orderin’ a glass of water.” 

Grillby shrugs his shoulders, adjusting his glasses and wiping a mug down with a towel.

Red grew impatient. “we need the password for tonight.”

The fire elemental sets his mug down and vanishes into the staff-only door. Sans raises his hand instinctively to catch the crumpled up paper thrown his way, like he does every night.

“thanks, _hot stuff_.” Sans winkes and opened the crumpled paper. Grillby’s flames went pink and he shakes his head. Sans’ pupils rove over over the handwritten note before meeting Red’s gaze. Sans’ expression spelled nothing but trouble and mischief.

The two skeletons weave through both patrons and tables until they reach the back of the bar. A bland steel door missing a handle was camouflaged against the gray wallpaper. Sans knocks on the door, five raps and two soft taps, before the slot at the top opened, two beady black eyes peering through.

“Password?” Croaks a voice from behind the door. 

Sans nudges Red, shoving the paper in his hands and grinning like an idiot. “you’re reading this one, cherry.”

Red’s eyes dart to the paper to read what’s on the note. His sockets widen and he crumples it.

“f-fuck you, blue! like hell i am!”

“do ya wanna see asgore or not? ‘cause i’m fine with waiting.”

Red pinches the bridge of his nose, growling. “fine! fuck.” He clears his phantom throat, blushing so heavily he thought his skull might ignite. Defeated, he reads the note as loud as possible, trying to speak over the music.

“i-i, am a…a stupid doodoo butt.”

Sans looked absolutely beside himself. 

The door pops open, revealing a froggit on a very tall stool. The boys brush past them, Red shoving Sans into the hall’s wall to get ahead. Sans guffaws at his partner’s embarrassment like it was the most precious thing in the world.

The pair continue down the spiral flight of stairs until they reach a set of golden elevator doors at the end of a hall. Sans removes his hand, enveloped in a cyan aura, from his coat pocket. He waved it at the elevator and it dings, before opening. The inside was construed entirely of blown glass, marble tiles and plated gold. The elevator doors slide shut as soon as the skeletons are securely inside, and launches upwards with such speed it almost has Red’s knees buckling. 

Sans was somewhat relieved that they had left the bar. The atmosphere alone had him burning with desire for a glass of whiskey. Sans’ concern over last night’s events must have shown, as Red nudges him with his arm.

“y’alright?”

“m’fine,” Sans huffs, and Red drops it, turning to stare out the glass pane at the lights of the city below. 

The sun had just gone down; it was a little past five o’clock. Neither skeletons seemed to be bothered by the fact that they were four hours late. The other monsters had deemed it as a trademark for them at this point.

Asgore owned an entire floor of the New Home hotel. His offices were situated all along the top floor and his quarters were in the penthouse. How he had managed to get behind all of that money, Sans had no idea. He just assumed it had to do with plenty of political favours. Asgore was a politician after all, and there’s nothing they love more than dirty money.

It seems like forever before the tell-tale ding of the elevator rang again. Sans and Red step into the penthouse and are greeted with the fluffy, hulking sight of their boss. Despite Asgore’s intimidating demeanour, he was usually quite gentle. A thick blonde beard, thick white fur and huge curling horns spelled him out to be a force to be reckoned with, especially when he stood at over eight feet tall. But, he was more of a pacifist than anything, despite his position in The Underground.

“hey, boss,” Red says, “what’cha got in-store for us?”

Sans and Red are expecting to be met with an offer for tea but stiffen at Asgore’s expression. Undyne steps out from behind him, looking furious.   

“Boys,” His baritone was rough, lacking his usual gentleness. Red flinches. “We need to discuss what happened last night.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD I'm sorry for being so embarrassingly late but i have good things planned so don't hate me forever
> 
> undyne is the most fun to write ever
> 
> feel free to yell at me at http://bonethot.tumblr.com


	4. Executive Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meetings, attitude, injuries, and the urge to be a sleuth.

Asgore was best described by his human coworkers as an empathetic go-getter, and incredibly nice—for a monster. Among his own kind, he was a symbol of hope, power, and a reminder that if a _monster_ can have a say in municipal politics, then they really did have a future. The massive goat-monster had a knack for showering optimism everywhere he went, regardless of how tough the circumstances were, or how many injustices monster-kind had to brave. He earned the nickname “King” purely by uplifting people with his spirit, but that had been many years ago.

On every level, the political system was dirty, and Asgore knew this. As the representative for monsters in Ebott, twenty years of unjustifiable discrimination had taken its toll on the goat-man, and it was rather easy to tell. He missed his children, and more recently, his wife, but the sheer weight of monster-kind’s hopes had blinded him to his own personal struggles. In Frisk’s colourful description, he was like a robot, living a lie.

Asgore definitely was not a “clean politician.” Those do not exist. Everyone with power rose to claim it through immoral means, and Asgore was no different. How else would he gain such a wide array of supporters, willing to vouch for him and throw him their votes at his beck and call?

A street gang of magic-wielding creatures makes it rather easy. As long as they had their unique control over souls and the power residing in them, performing odd jobs and stealing from those who deserve it was child’s play, especially when unified under a seemingly innocent, well-respected figurehead. This begs the question, however:

What happens when The Underground isn’t the only gang with arcane ability?

This was the devilish enigma currently plaguing the king’s mind. An impromptu meeting about a rival gang had answered many questions, yet opened up thousands more. In all honesty, he’d never had to think of it before. Asgore was frustrated, to say the least, and it completely stunned both Sans and Red, who had only known the king to be a never-ending stream of patience and understanding.

This brings Asgore’s thoughts back to the present. Sans was starting to regret oversharing.

“split up?”

Sans gave Asgore and Undyne a double take. “you gotta be shitting me.” 

“You two,” Asgore began, sternly. “Have indirectly forged a name for yourselves where there should not be one. I can understand that loose-ends happen, regardless of your talents, and it is not your fault. But, this is a necessary precaution.”

Sans remained silent. 

“we don’t even _know_ anythin’ about these humans,” Red argued. “why do you think we should just go defcon five at the smallest hint’a danger?”

Asgore shakily straightened his tie. “I…I would prefer if we discussed this over tea. I shall return momentarily.”

He stood up and left the room. Undyne slumped in the chair she made Asgore put in his office for her.

Asgore took Undyne under his wing when she forced herself there: he had seen her fight before. She had raw talent in the ring and rivers of magic potential flowing through her emerald soul. She needed money to provide for her family, and he needed a new head of security. Things had just managed to work out.

The fish woman learned everything she knew from Asgore. A decade of lessons and sparring had taught her everything she needed to spearhead the protection of her comrades, her gang, and her loved ones. Out of everyone in The Underground, it was painstakingly clear that Undyne held him to the highest level of respect, on a much deeper level than the usual bond between boss and underling.

Red had only been in The Underground’s executive space a handful of times, and now that the fluffy giant was out of the room, he had time to focus on his surroundings. 

Asgore’s office was definitely a reanimation of his personality. If anything, it was more like a greenhouse than a professional workspace: his desk was littered in picture frames, potted cacti and cute miniature terrariums. Ivy snaked up the earthy-coloured walls like a flowery embrace. His window sills were decorated in baskets of buttercups, and he even had a purple rug with a golden trim, symbolizing the gang’s official colour while simultaneously matching the flowers and walls. On the far end, by his door, the wall-vines seemed to symmetrically part to make room for a massive painted portrait. Toriel’s smiling face was there, next to her towered Asgore, his massive paws on the shoulders of a smaller monster and a human child Red couldn’t recognize. Tension hung thick in the room.

Sans sinks further into his chair, his eyelids sliding shut with a bony click. Undyne called for Asgore to make hers a seatea, and the king hummed in response outside of the office. He returned moments later with a tray of tiny mugs. His hands were so large he had to comically pinch the handles with his claws.

Okay, that helped ease the tension a little bit. 

Undyne knocks hers back in one gulp. “If you were just gonna split those two up, why was I invited?”

“You’re my right hand,” Asgore reminds her. “You need to be present for every meeting. Not to mention, you yourself have a special job to do.”

She perks up. Sans pushes his untouched tea further away onto Asgore’s tea table and Red follows suit.

“Magician’s Crew has proven to be undoubtedly troublesome. Which is why,” He rests his hand on Undyne’s shoulder, practically dwarfing her head. “I have conjured a game-plan.”

Sans cracks open an eyelid.

“The two of you mentioned that the souls of Percy Street’s assailants were saturated in a murky, dark magic that may have improved their strength and ability past that of human level. Your suspicions are likely correct, Sans, as this can only mean someone of monster-kind has aided our new rivals.”

Asgore’s shadowy expression caused Red to sweat.

“Our rivals have never made so bold of a move before. If the lowest rung of Magician’s Crew’s hierarchy can injure even our most proficient fighters, then we need to operate in the darkness. In other words, we must take the defensive. Our establishments require increased security measures, as we have no way to predict the way they’ll act. Undyne, I’m putting you back in charge of observation. Your canine unit is to be tasked with safeguarding our territory.”

Undyne stiffens, swatting Asgore’s hand away and placing her mug on the table a little too hard. “We need to find a weakness and destroy them. If anything, boss, we should be dealing with it head on! If we sit and wait, who knows how strong they could get.”

“They managed to identify our bounty hunters, and if I am not mistaken, that was the first occurrence,” he glances at Sans and Red, who nod. “If we do not wait, Undyne, we could be risking the lives of both our rioters and our informers.”

“Asgore, so what? The skele-chumps got jumped. You _know_ this is way too much of a reaction. We’re playing right into their hands.”

“Undyne, we cannot risk anything. If we play the defensive, you can gather information that we can act on.”

She slams her hands onto the table, claws digging into the mahogany surface and Asgore doesn’t even flinch.

“You can’t just push me to the sidelines like this! I can’t just let a fucking band of musclehead vigilantes threaten our turf-”

“ _That’s enough_.”

Asgore’s deep baritone was so loud that Sans could feel it hum in his ribs. Undyne immediately reeled back, shock on her face. He’d never been so assertive in tone before and it _deeply_ unsettled her. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned forwards, hiding his face from his company.

“We take a defensive stance and enlighten ourselves on our new enemy. If this scenario is as grave as I believe, we will require all of the preparation we can muster before making a move. That is final. As of right now, we can speak later. You are all dismissed.”

The skeletons stood to leave, but regret shadowed Undyne’s usually bright scales. “Asgore-”

He whipped around to glare down at her, his eyes a burning crimson. 

“ _Now._ ”

Her ear-fins droop as she gingerly sets her tea down, grabbing her coat splayed over her special chair and heading for the door. Her expression was unreadable as she brushes past the boys on the way out.

Sans whistles through his teeth as the elevator doors ding shut. “shit, boss, you really think that was necessary?” 

Asgore didn’t reply, staring at his tea as the sun set through his blinds.

“i know how close you two are. you’ll _pinpoint_ the solution eventually.”

He grabs Red’s arm and snaps his gloved fingers, the two blipping out of existence. Asgore was left alone with nothing but his own reflection in his now-cold tea.

He lets out a long exhale. Asgore knew he was acting irrationally, but he would be damned if he lost another loved one to _them_.

The same people who, who... 

He reaches into his desk drawer and fumbles aimlessly before snatching a thumbtack. Grabbing the surveillance photos and notes from the meeting, he trots over to his whiteboard, currently littered in political bar graphs. Grabbing the handle, the contraption flips to reveal the bulletin-board side. Countless photos, connected by colour-coded pins and yarn strings, leading from ratty newspaper articles to recently developed snapshots decorate it in a sleuth-style chart.

He jabs the new photographs and notes into the bottom of the bulletin, in the unorganized section. Glancing at the thumbtacks obnoxiously littering the board, he almost chuckles to himself. Sans knew a lot more than he let on.

 

* * *

 

 

“…A gruesome string of murders leading all over the West End of Ebott Village have left authorities disoriented. Speculation has been raised that The Underground, an organized band of criminals, have been orchestrating…”

You yawn, wanting to mute the TV but finding yourself unable to locate the remote. The media had been blowing up about the disappearance of over ten people overnight, bodies—or what was left of them—being located all over the countryside and throughout the entirety of Ebott. This certainly wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in this city, however. And you knew for a fact that reporters tended to focus more on human deaths rather than their infinitely more common counterpart. The frantic undertone of the reporter managed to drag you out of hibernation.

It wasn’t ever until the third day of week-long vacations that you’re given enough free time to realize how lazy you are off the clock. Your phone buzzes from underneath you and you realize you fell asleep on it, as well as a few other hard objects. You attempt to reach for it but recoil when you feel lukewarm Oreo paste on your fingers. Mystery solved.  

You woke up periodically to throw Papyrus’ cookie crumb-saturated blankets into your poor washing machine before passing out again. It was now around 7 PM and you still feel like you haven’t slept in a millennium, but you were at least relieved to be alone for a while. The past twenty-four hours had been filled with too much socialization, and murder repercussions, for you to sanely deal with.

You spend the next few hours shifting through a multitude of your favourite hobbies, alternating between watering your plants, checking Instagram, and throwing a few pieces together on your jigsaw puzzle before ultimately setting up your canvas and stool in front of the TV and getting to work. Coming up with a subject to sketch and eventually colour was always the hardest part, you believed, and you find yourself racking your brain for something, _anything_ to fill up the canvas space. Your eyes drift to your crimson nail polish, and an idea sparks your creativity. You just hope it won’t look creepy. 

The news continues to ramble on about gang affiliations throughout the Western end of the city as you work. You bite your lip in concentration, finishing up the base sketch before a light chime drifts through your apartment. You pack up your pencils and inwardly groan, that was the service window, which you designated to your “patients” who weren’t close enough with you to flirt yet.

You waltz past the kitchen and into your laundry room. Aside from your trusty clothing machines, your laundry room was more of an office than anything. You had a whiteboard with inventory numbers on the wall, a fake plant, and an old dinner table you used for treatment. The larger window, your service window, was outfitted with a bell chime that rang when someone from the outside pulled a string. The frame was covered in golden tinsel and stickers that Frisk had provided. The two of you went all-out decorating it.

You cautiously pull back the blinds, and almost shriek at the sight. Panic rises in your chest as you eye at least a dozen injured people, monsters and humans alike, wearing a multitude of different colours. They were leaning on each other and the walls. By the looks of it, none of them seemed to be from the same gang. You recognized one from his purple tank-top. Ripping the window open, you cry out.

“Doggo?”

He looks in your direction, confused. Blood was outlining his speckled muzzle and one of his eyes was crusted shut with it. His trademark tank top and cargo shorts were soiled too.

“I can’t see ya. Move a bit!” He barks, and you comply by waving your arm. He hobbles over to the ledge and you make room to allow him in. He pulls himself up onto the table, and you immediately caress his fur for surface wounds.

“What happened here?” You practically gasp. “I haven’t seen this many wounded here, ever.”

“Those stupid, non-movin’ magic men went on a fucking _rampage_ around a few neighbourhoods tonight. They flipped cars, throwin’ rocks and fire at houses, tryin’ to incite a fight. Boss told us to ‘take the defensive’,” he mocks with air quotes, rolling his moveable eye. “But…hell, we barely got out with our tails on our asses." 

You rub up his eye, and clean his muzzle off. Most of the blood didn’t belong to him, to your relief. His injuries were not as serious as they appeared. You even give him a cool eye-patch. With haste, you usher him into one of the chairs beside the table for him to rest as you reopen the window to let more of the injured in.

One by one, they told you about the scenario of the fights they got into. They were minding their own business in their turf, before they stared down a crazy amount of humans, dressed in all black. Your patients looked completely hollow; their eyes glazed over, teeth chattering, and completely unpredictable to your wound prodding, cleaning, and occasional stitching. Ice Wolf looked ready to take off your arm when you rubbed alcohol on his chest, but others would sit in silence, unblinking. It was easily the most discomforting experience you’ve had working.

No one tried flirting tonight. Hours flew by, and soon you were yawning as you stitched up your last patient.

“Take care next time, boys. Don’t do anything unnecessary, you hear?” 

A crescendo of groans answered you as the monsters and humans filtered back out of your service window. Doggo moved to follow them but lingered a bit in the frame.

“Listen,” he glances back to you, a lit cigarette in his mouth. You enforce a no-smoking policy but decide to let it slide.

“Whatever’s goin’ on out there, it’s bad. You saw all of us. Any bad thing you’re gonna hear about those wizard _dipshits_ is a hell of a lot worse than you think.”

You gulp, running your fingers continuously through your hair in order to remain in Doggo’s vision.

“You see anyone come ‘ere with a seven-heart crest on their person, you turn ‘em away. I get that it ain’t your policy or whatever, but seriously,” he pauses to take a drag, blowing the smoke back into the room despite being halfway out of an open window. “They’re bad news, and they don’t follow codes of respect. Hell, they didn’t even give two shits when it came to harrasin’ Maiden’s Integrity in their own damn neighbourhood.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open,” you sigh. “You said they were abnormally pale, with scary eyes?”

He nods.

“Doggo, that could literally be anyone.”

“I also said to watch out for the crests!” He barks. “Somethin’ ain’t right about those freaks. You should know, the cops had to mop up what was left of ‘em just a block from here, and we _all_ know that this is the only place in Ebott where we can’t beat the shit out of each other.”

“Right.”

He takes another drag, and growls as you start to shoo him out of the window. 

“You’re wasting my heat! Bye Doggo, make good choices.”

You shut the window and the blinds before slumping onto the floor. Doggo’s information worried you, needless to say. Magician’s Crew spelled trouble and _everybody_ was at risk, but at risk of what? It made no sense that they would just come out of nowhere and start tearing up the town. New gangs formed all of the time, but they always struggled to acquire territory. Magician’s Crew garnering this much influence in a matter of weeks just didn’t add up. There was also the fact that they were anti-monster, and it made your stomach churn. You eventually stand up and wander back to your abandoned painting.

As you add some finishing touches to the sketch, you think back to the skeletons and how they managed to take on so many criminals unscathed. Well, partially unscathed. Doggo looked like trash and that was after defending himself with a small army of gang members; you had no idea how the two of them managed it with nothing to show but a few shallow cuts in their bone. Your thoughts began to fill with the boys—they must have been pretty strong.

Red was acting kind of strange yesterday. His face was almost the same shade as his eyes whenever you treated his wounds, and he even cracked a pun at you. That only happened once, and he was absolutely _hammered_ at Toriel’s during a dinner party. Drunk Red was a treasure.

Despite knowing Sans and Red for a month, you still didn’t know anything about them, aside from the fact that they had a brother. They were twins, as far as they told you, and they seemed to always be together, like two peas in a pod. Sans was almost never alone, as he was either with his twin or his younger brother. It somewhat confuses you that Red decided to live in his own space, when they could have just invested in a three-bedroom apartment instead.

Whenever you were around them, however, you felt your insecurities skyrocket. You didn’t necessarily have self-esteem issues or anything of the sort, but you constantly found yourself filtering through all of your nervous habits and fighting chest-butterflies whenever one of them said ‘hey’. Last night, however, you were so exhausted from finals week that you sat on their laps without a second thought.

Your face suddenly becomes a solar flare when you realize you practically straddled them. God, how embarrassing. You tap your phone against your face until you stop thinking about it. 

The mysterious atmosphere that they carried was enticing, to say the least. You were always a curious soul; whenever you came across something you couldn’t understand, you would attack every angle of the scenario until you discovered the answer. Your parents used to claim that your perseverance was practically carved into you at birth.

Aforementioned curiosity was currently tugging at your heartstrings right now.

Magician’s Crew was a sudden enigma that you wanted—no, _needed_ to get to the bottom of. Your mind was a tornado of questions and inquiry, and the skeletons were the eye of the storm. It then struck you to make a point of inviting one of them over again. Not only would you get some answers, but you’d also get to see their cute faces again.

… 

Wait, cute?

 

* * *

 

 “what are you up to, old man?”

**Only a fool would ask questions he cannot comprehend answers to.**

Red groans, sitting against his bedroom door.

“those souls were your fault, it don’t take a ‘fool’,” he patronizingly wines, “to figure that shit out.” 

His hands dart to his temples as he shuts his eyes, howling in pain, the sudden headache catching him off guard and sending pulses of agony behind his eye-sockets. The distorted voice in his mind grows louder, angry static and clicking bouncing around his skull like a sadistic game of pong.

 **Watch your mouth. I’m sure you recognized my hold on those _filthy_ monkeys, however, it was not entirely my doing. **

“what do you mean?” Red grunts, thankful no one could hear him talking to himself.

**Focus on your task at hand. My actions are nothing you should concern yourself with.**

“…fine.”

**Good. If I find you meddling where you should not be, you know what I am capable of. Do not speak of this to your other or I _promise_ you I will make it agonizingly slow. **

The static grew louder, threatening to crack Red’s skull from the sheer amount of pressure before vanishing all at once. He sighs, contemplating his current situation and thinking about _her_.

He can’t let him hurt her. He just can’t. But how is he supposed to change anything when his magic is the way it is? How can he sacrifice his own other for someone he’s known for a month? He knew the power residing over your soul. He _knew_ that the second he chokes, he’ll be picking out funeral attire. It’s not fair. What the fuck was he supposed to do? What the fuck was Sans _going_ to do. How would he react if he came clean?

Red’s bones start to rattle, the hum of his magic brought on by emotion growing into a loud buzz. His soul grows absolutely radiant through his ribcage and becomes a crimson search light through shutter shades. What was the point of living if he was only given such a meaningless task?

His skull quickly becomes drenched in perspiration, the familiar feeling of intense anxiety enveloping his form as his bones feel too cold and too hot at the same time. He shakily reaches into his pocket and draws out his phone, typing a message to the best of his ability and tapping a multitude of buttons before ‘send’. His claws dig into the carpet and he effortlessly uproots chunks of it from the floor.

He eventually stands up only to collapse onto his bed, curling up around a pillow and sinking his teeth into it. For now, he’d have to wait.

 

* * *

 

 Sans could really use a drink right about now. 

He ineffectively pinches his bony arm. He practically just got settled in with Papyrus, he can’t afford to think that way anymore. His hands come up to massage his temples as he lounges on the couch.

He was stressed out, to say the least. It’s impossible to know who exactly orchestrated the human souls but possession magic was the trademark of only _one_ monster he was acquainted with:

The man who cheated death.

This line of work had proven to be dangerous, stressful, and tragic—recent events had certainly proved it. Sans was once thinking of finding a _real_ job, but the only qualifications or degrees he owned were destroyed a long time ago. He could pull some strings with Alphys and get a job in the university lab with her, but he promised himself he would never set foot in one again. His bones started to quake at the mere thought of putting a lab coat on. He diverts panic by staring at his empty liquor cabinet in the kitchen.

His phone buzzed and Sans opens it with vigor. He needed a distraction right now.

 

**_cherry boy 1:18 AM_ **

_ssann s_

_*its hpaenning agai n,_

Immediately, Sans stands up, speed-walking to the kitchen and pouring a glass of water. He snaps his phalanges and finds himself in Red’s living room, stepping over old pizza boxes and beer cans as he makes his way to the bedroom door. He raps it twice.

“knock knock.”

The lack of reply made Sans suck in a breath. He gingerly opened the door, peering around it to see his partner tangled in his bed sheets, the faint rattle of his bones filling the air. His magic was so bright it almost hurt to look at, and his silhouette was cast on the wall from it.

“red, buddy,” he starts, trying not to trip over the holes torn in the floor. Sans plops himself next to Red, gently coaxing him out of the sheets and pulling him to sit upright against the headrest. His eye-sockets were black voids and he was shaking so violently that his teeth were chattering, a sweaty imprint of his bones was painted on the mattress. He sets the glass of water onto his bedside table.

“what time did the man go to the dentist?” His phalanges gently pet the back of Red’s skull. He jerks at first before relaxing into the touch.

“tooth-hurty.” Sans snickers, tapping his partner's gold canine, and Red’s pupils return.  “there we go, bud, it’ll be alright.” He hands Red the glass of water and he downs it in one gulp.

“i-i hate this, i hate it…” His partner was a stuttering mess, his claws gripping the bed sheets so tightly they looked like confetti. Sans swings his arm around Red and pulls him closer to him, the other hand snaking over to Red’s stunted chest. His hand glows his trademark cyan before jerking it away, Red’s light mingling with his magic. Sans un-balls his hand and reveals a cartoonish, inverted, crimson heart. It had a violent crack down the middle. 

“my soul?” Red murmurs, his shaking beginning to quell. His eyes were wide as he stared at the culmination of his very being. It had been a while.

“you’re real, red. you’re you,” he nudges him, before grabbing at his own chest and grunting, his cyan soul floating into the air, pulsing like a heartbeat. The room became a brilliant shade of violet, and Red manages to get his breathing under control. The two souls begin to gravitate towards each other, circling like snowflakes in a breeze. Red couldn’t keep his eyes away from it.

Sans smiles in contentment, watching their souls dance. He feels a swell of affection for his partner, as their emotions temporarily share. He cared deeply about Red, and it was no secret. However, his soul pulses erratically, and butterflies tickle his ribcage. Red grunts in confusion, and Sans feels the same from him. He passes it off as nothing, for now.

“if ya didn’t have this, cherry, ya wouldn’t be yourself,” Sans whispers. “ya aren’t me. you’re your own person.”

Red slowly feels his anxiety recede as Sans coos into his ear. He brings his hands up to his eyes, effectively covering them.

“what, just what the hell is _wrong_ with me!” Red growls in frustration, leaning further into Sans’ half embrace. He hated himself for needing this, and he hated himself for showing this side. It was his problem, so why did he need anyone else?

Sans doesn’t reply for a bit, his bony hand rubbing the back of Red’s neck and further onto his spine.

“shh, bud, you’re good now. i’m here, and so are you.” 

Red’s whimpers are so quiet one had to strain to hear them. His shaking had completely stopped, and Sans had continued rubbing his back until he realized Red was fast asleep. His soul stops its dance and recedes back into Red’s chest, the abnormal glow gone once more. Sans removes himself from the tangle of sheet and bone, gently pulling his partner onto his pillows and heading for the door. He shuts the light off before teleporting, an affectionate smile on his face while stepping into the void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NGAAHHHHHH FINALLY THE PLOT IS SET UP AND INTROS ARE DONE AND GOD THE ROMANCE CAN BEGIN
> 
> thanks for staying this long LOL i promise its not gonna be the slowest of slow burns but still a slow burn
> 
> RIP red's carpet
> 
> talk to me about undertail and being gay at http://bonethot.tumblr.com


	5. Donuts & Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry friends i have returned from the dead. this fic is still alive i will not die so easily
> 
> anyways this chapter is very lax and its all i could produce in these trying times

High school sucked.

This was the first thing Frisk learned upon enrollment to West Ebott Public School. Despite being K-12 and composed of about 60% monsters, it was also about 40% humans. Frisk usually gave people the benefit of the doubt, but high school was a place where that golden rule never applied. Assumptions about human children were true; they were cruel in every way, shape and form. Integrity seemed to be lost amongst them, especially when taught to hate what they couldn’t understand.

That isn’t to say that humans and monsters never got along. This school may have been the least-funded establishment in the entire West End, but that didn’t necessarily make every student into some mangy delinquent as glorified on TV. There were strong friend groups of the two species, but there were certainly some students who were against any intermingling between the groups, and it was fair to say none of them were monsters. The magical beasts were rumoured to be composed entirely of love and compassion, after all.

Besides, West Ebott had a huge monster majority, and it wasn’t like every human who found themselves living there hated them. It just so happened to be an unsettling number.

Students who were against monsters usually stayed under the radar, but today just happened to be different.

Frisk was walking to their locker to retrieve some posters for the monthly spider bake sale when it happened. Their face was suddenly well-acquainted with the steel door of their locker, body suspended above the ground through fistfuls of their chestnut brown hair. Through squinted eyes, they surveyed about three  _very_ cross eleventh graders.

“Heya, Cuckoo. Been looking for ya since third period,” one sneers, the scent of garlic and cheetos hitting Frisk’s poor nostrils.

“Yeah, coconut head. We had to make sure you weren’t getting too bored all alone like you always are.”

“Heheh, coconut head.” They high five.

Frisk remains silent, squirming against their grip. It was like greasy, iron bars were pinning them against the locker. It would have been shocking if this didn’t already happen bi-weekly.

The three muska-tools, as Frisk describes them, hated monsters. Other students shared their notions, albeit from the sidelines. No one was as bold as the three of them, even students in the twelfth grade. As per dealing with them, Frisk quickly learned that silence was the quickest way for things to end. Sans also provided some advice if they wanted to mess with them, but a flick on the side of the head from Toriel quickly fizzled that out. Frisk decided only to use it if they were having a bad day.

Unfortunately, Frisk was having a bad day.

“Y’got us a lunch hour in fucking detention ‘cause you and that armless  _freak_ can’t keep your stupid mouths shut,” one spits, and Frisk’s temper begins to wander out of sight.

“So fucking what if we kicked him off of the soccer team? He serves better as a  _goal post_ anyways. Besides, s’not like we have some ugly monster as a mom.” 

Frisk winces.

“Yeah,” the greasy one prods his lackey, “I heard you were abandoned by your real parents before you got stolen by that freaky goat demon.”

Frisk’s temper was now so lost that not even the Red Cross could locate and rescue it.

“Why the fuck won’t you say shit back? Do you like making me look like a dickhole, cuckoo?”

The ninth-grader giggles, much to the aggravation of the others. The one gripping their hair shoves them back against the locker, the metallic bang echoing through the empty hallway.

“Do you?”

“You want me to say no, right?”

Frisk’s cheeky grin was met with seething rage. Their murky orange souls flared with annoyance.

“You little bit-”

“And what exactly is going on here?”

Before they knew it, Frisk was butt-first on the ground. They groan as they recognize the voice, knowing exactly what to expect from this point onwards.

“U-uh, j-just showing Frisk here how to clean their locker!” One studders, glancing up at his homeroom teacher.

“Right, Frisk? Y-you asked me to help you, remember?”

Frisk’s lips remain shut, nodding slowly as they got to their feet. An exasperated sigh fills the silence of the hallway.

“I saw the whole thing. I am  _very_ disappointed with all of you. Rough-housing is not permitted within the hallways under any circumstance.” 

“Yeah, w-well, monsters shouldn’t be either, you f-fucking goat freak!”

The three muska-tools took off, joining up with another group of students on the far end of the hallway before heading around the corner and out of sight. Toriel didn’t take her eyes off of Frisk for one moment, the insult passing right over her tiny horns.

“Are you alright, my child?”

“M’fine,” Frisk grumbles, obviously not willing to talk about it. Toriel retreats back to the social science room, beckoning for them to follow her.

She sits down at her own desk, a small wooden space that could barely fit her legs, shoved off into the corner of the room, hidden behind stacks of paper and old yearbooks. A customized office chair held her massive frame, the only gift from Asgore she decided to keep.

“Frisk?” Toriel wants to prod so badly, but she knows it would only push her child further away from them. Whatever was bothering Frisk was reaching a boiling point, and she knew it was much more than the transition into being a teenager. Toriel fishes out a few tupperware containers filled with last night’s shepherd's pie, along with a pair of plastic forks. She cracks them both open, setting one in front of Frisk with the fork already lodged in a perfect bite-size.

“Frisk…” They take a bite, and then resign themselves to playing with their food. Toriel’s paws clasp her purple dress. Frisk would never tell her that acting cool and unbothered didn’t help them cope with being a target at school. Being the human child of a monster does that to you. Frisk couldn’t blame their own mother for that, but…

How else were they to deal with something like this?

“Please,” Toriel almost whispers, “Why would you fib to me about those hooligans…?”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” Frisk snaps, their mother recoiling at their tone. Guilt washed over their face as they glance back down at their food. Toriel begins to reach out and sooth their shoulder, but decides not to push it. Frisk knew it was unfair to project onto Toriel but they couldn’t help it.

Suddenly, she has an idea. Her amethyst eyes light up with a possible temporary fix. If she can make Frisk forget about how awful things may be at school, even for a little bit, she would jump at the chance.

“I know just who to call.”

Frisk rolls their eyes and continues playing with their food, the pristine goat woman grabbing her cell phone from her jacket and leaving the room for a moment. She punches in her speed-dial and patiently waits for her solution to pick up.

“y’ello?”

“Sans? Hello, Sans!”

“ay, tori. what’s up?”

“I was wondering if you were interested in helping Frisk and myself with something.”

“everythin’ alright?” Toriel giggles at the concern laced in his voice.

“Yes, my friend, worry not. Frisk has had a rather poor morning, and I am afraid I cannot lift their spirits,” She felt the familiar tug at her throat. “Are you occupied with something at the moment? They...really need someone right now.” Her voice grew shaky as she spoke into the phone, and Sans immediately picked up on it.

“just finishin’ up a job. ‘know just the fix. be there in a few, alright?”

Toriel felt relief flood her chest. “Thank you, Sans. We are in the social science lounge.”

He winces. Sans knew that Frisk only spent time in the lounge when things got  _really_ bad.

“aw, geez. see ya soon.”

“I will be seeing you shortly!” Sans chuckles before hanging up the phone.

Toriel pads back into the room, taking her seat and powering up her laptop to work on her class’ report cards. Her laptop was customly engineered for her large, monstrous hands. The buttons on the keyboard were comically large in comparison to the monitor. She adjusts her miniscule reading glasses and gets to work.

The room is silent, save for Toriel’s frantic typing. The teenager found themselves relaying the exchange from earlier in their head, their mood plummeting with each repeat. Why did human kids have to be so cruel? Frisk couldn’t wrap their head around it.

They aimlessly pick at their lunch before a familiar  _blip_ fills the room. Wait, was that…?

“heya, kiddo.” Sans was standing in the middle of the lounge, a blue jacket draped over his hoodie, a flat-billed hat covering his skull. Toriel has come to recognize this as his street attire. She bites her lip.

Frisk immediately sets their fork down, the familiar gleam sparking back into their hazel eyes as they feverishly pull away from their chair. Toriel giggles at their drastic change in mood. Frisk was  _always_ happy to see Sans. 

“Skele-bro!” Frisk exclaims, bounding over to the big skeleton. Sans grins, his hand instinctively leaving his jacket for the tradition. Frisk had apparently outgrown hugs last year, save for special occasions, and now only goes by one form of greeting.

“rough day, munchkin?”

“It’s better now!” Frisk darts to slap his hand in a high five, their fingers interlacing before pulling away to bump fists, their thumbs prodding each other in a miniature eskimo-kiss. The handshake, albeit childish, was pretty cool when you perform it with a street gangster. Sans ruffles their hair, happy to see them smiling. Toriel was too.

“i’ve got some plans for us today, Frisk. so long as ‘yer mother’s fine with it, capiche?”

Frisk reluctantly stares at Toriel, with pleading eyes, and the goat woman simply laughs, running a padded paw through her ear fur.

“Please return in time  _fur_ dinner, alright?” 

Sans chuckles at that, nudging Frisk. They nod, linking arms with Sans, ready to enter the void. They’ve had a lot of practice with this before.

“And Sans?” The skeleton glances up to meet her gaze.

“yeah, tori?”

“Please refrain from microwaving hot-dogs until they squeal and explode.”

“well, s’a good thing we got hot cats, huh kid?” He winks, and Toriel mockingly rolls her eyes. He snaps his phalanges, Frisk’s form briefly filling with magic in preparation for the trip. “we’ll be safe. see ya tonight.”

Toriel waves as they pop out of existence. She trusts Sans with every fibre of her being, yet…

Why couldn’t she shake this feeling of dread from her soul?

 

* * *

 

When working at a minimum wage job, most people hate everything about it, with the exception of one thing. Be it the coworkers, the location, or even the work itself, everybody tends to cling to one in order to maintain sanity while they slug through the bottom rung of capitalism.

You, on the other hand, lucked out.

Muffet Masculata’s Donut Emporium was the most popular bakery in the West End, and you managed to secure yourself a job there. Avoided only by ugly speciests, people and monsters alike came to share a trademark spider donut and relax with some tea, cider, and the day’s newspaper. It was always peaceful, to say the least, and even as the only human working there, you couldn’t be happier.

It was a cute little spot, too. The grey tiles were always polished, matching the purple, polkadotted walls and the black utility colour scheme your boss had going on. It fit into the “halloween ended but we still have plenty of leftover chocolate and decor” aesthetic seamlessly. Not to mention, staff members had to wear frilly maid outfits. They were customized by Muffet herself to avoid the degrading aspect, and look like classy service dresses now more than anything.

Not to mention, you were best friends with your boss. Well, as close as co-workers could be. The two of you hadn’t hung out outside of work or anything, but you both had plenty of time to acquaint yourselves with each other, seeing as only two other people worked here, and they rarely showed. Muffet was always kind and understanding towards you, and it warms your heart.

It had been a surprisingly eventful week off of work. Even with school out of the way, your days were filled with exhaustion. Now that exams were over, you were still visited daily by Papyrus and Undyne, with the occasional Frisk. Your friendship with them had developed surprisingly fast--you caught back up with Undyne for a few days before she had went out on a special assignment, and she made sure that you knew the two of you were friends now. Your scalp still ached from the noogie.

You had also officially made Papyrus’ list of “most available humans,” which was unclear on whether or not that was insulting. Frisk was the only other name on the loose leaf paper taped to his fridge.

Pouring coffee beans into the industrial blender, you begin to lose yourself in your thoughts for the umpteenth time that day.

Magician’s Crew had been causing problems for everyone, without a doubt. Doggo’s warning was starting to worry you, yet, that insatiable curiosity managed to snake its way back into your mind each time you managed to dispel it with reason. It was dangerous for people who don’t know how to defend themselves to just walk down the street willy-nilly looking for gang violence. Foolish, even. However, entertaining the thought wasn’t necessarily bad…

A soft hand on your shoulder pulls you back into reality.

“Are you alright, dearie?” Your boss’ voice was laced with concern. It was then you notice that you were standing in a sea of coffee beans, the blender filled long ago. You were simply holding an empty bag now. Stammering out a response, your face heats up with embarrassment.

“Yes, oh gosh, I’m so sorry!”

She giggles, one of her many hands daintily covering her mouth.

“Do not worry about it, _____. My little ones and I can take care of things from here,” a tiny spider crawls onto her shoulder, the miniscule black monster waving a leg at you and chirping happily. “Would you like to take fifteen? You seem out of sorts.”

“Thanks, Muffet,” You sigh, attempting to step over the coffee pile and discarding the bag in the trash. “I’ll be right back out.” She ruffles her adorable, frilly dress.

You were grateful to have such an understanding boss. You space out often, and have ever since you were a child. Your parents used to call you a “little Einstein” because of it; asking too many questions, your brain filled to the brim with the desire to learn and discover, your parents constantly having to call your name more than once because you were off in lala-land for far too long. It carried into your adult life, and Muffet didn’t mind in the slightest.

Working with a sentient, bipedal spider-woman sounded a lot more terrifying than it actually was. You had arachnophobia ever since you were a child, but, it almost vanished as soon as you made it through your first shift. Muffet’s “little helpers,” as she calls them, were the friendliest critters you’ve ever been around. Even now they were chirping away, a sea of them cleaning up your coffee spillage bean-by-bean. Some high-fived each other once they dumped the beans into an open ziploc bag.

In the break room now, you sit yourself and place your head in your hands. You knew next to nothing about Magician’s Crew, and apparently neither did The Underground. Doggo even said that Asgore put the whole gang on the defensive. But, the monster gang did know the most about them, and those skeletons had experience first-hand. Not to mention, you’ve been wanting to get to know them practically since you moved to the West End.

A lightbulb flashes over your head. How else would you learn more about Sans and his twin, as well as the current menace of the streets?

Duh. Wine night.

It would be perfect. You could get to know more about The Underground by throwing a little dinner party. Board games, your mom’s killer lasagna recipe, and...white wine? No. Red. You could chat it up with Sans finally. You had found him hilarious the few times you’d been around each other. And Red was pretty funny too, whenever he spoke. Maybe the alcohol would help him not look so...angry all the time. You also wanted to see Papyrus and Undyne again.

Not only that, you wanted to know them past the point of gang relations. They only knew you were an under-the-table doctor, and you only knew them as the best bounty hunters in Ebott. That needed to change, you had decided.

According to your phone calendar, tomorrow was your only night off. Taking a deep breath, you mark it down; Saturday was going to be the time when you invite a league of criminals into your apartment for some R&R. At this point, you weren’t sure if you just wanted to make friends or had a death wish.

Your heart flutters in excitement, but also something else. That weird tingly warmth settles itself in your chest as you think about the boys. Letting out a pained exhale, you slap both of your cheeks as if to wake yourself up. You’ve never been so critical of yourself around men, so why the hell would you start now?

The service bell rings, and suddenly, you remember that you’re at a job, where you’re paid to work. You’ve been over your break period for five minutes now. Scrambling out of the staff room, you throw those unwanted thoughts into the trash and head back onto the floor.

“Coming!” You call, hopping over the working paths of Muffet’s spiders, the arachnid queen herself nowhere in sight. The shop seemed to be empty, to your confusion, save for someone with their back turned at the front cash.

“Hey, sorry about that. There was just a huge spill in the back, and, well…” You trail off. They probably didn’t care. “Anyways, what can I do for you?”

The figure swivels around, and you’re suddenly starting to regret the executive decision you reached alone in the break room.

“Sans!” Your voice cracks. “W-What brings you here?”

“_______? you work here?” He looks like he’s holding back laughter, a toothy grin eating up his skull in pure amusement.

“Yes, yes I do,” You regain your composure, deciding to poke fun. “What could a gang-banger like you want in a frilly donut shop?”

“well, ya’d be surprised. can’t say i can resist fried dough,” He chuckles. “neither can this one.”

Frisk steps out from behind his bony leg. “Hey, nurse joy!”

“Rugrat!” You laugh, “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“School blows. I wanted donuts instead.”

“I can’t argue with that,” You mention, wondering about Sans’ partner. “Where’s Red hiding today?”

Sans stiffens. “he’s on a job.” You leave it at that.

“Shame, I wanted to see him. What can I get for you two?”

Frisk points to the special rainbow spider donut your work has for a monthly special. You jot it down and turn to Sans expectantly.

“ _donut_ worry about an order, toothy,” He shrugs, “jus’ surprise me.” 

“Fine, but are you sure you can  _crust_ me?” 

Sans’ eye sockets slightly widen in surprise, his smile spreading as he accepts your challenge. “dunno if i can, kiddo, ya look mysterious. your eyes are a bit  _glazed_.”

You fake gasp. “Oh, Sans, that’s so insulting. You’ve struck a  _hole_ in my heart.” 

Sans was trying his hardest to hold back a fit of giggles. “tooth, you’re  _filling_ me with joy right now.” 

A not-so-subtle cough causes the two of you to remember that Frisk existed.

“Oh, sorry Frisk. Not your  _cup of tea?_ ”

Frisk’s attempted angry grimace breaks entirely. They start laughing out loud, Sans joining them. His low, rumbly laugh seems to vibrate through your very bones, and it sends tingles across your skin. A swell of pride fills your chest at the reactions your friends give to your amazing comedic talent. It was probably written all over your face.

“I’m gonna make these up now,” You remind them, “You got the  _dough_ , bonehead?” 

Sans winks and hands you a 20. You didn’t know you were blushing until now.

You hand him back his change and turn to work away at making their orders. You decided to make Sans the same thing. Their rainbow donuts were just coming out of the stone oven when you feel a tap at your shoulder.

“Dearie? How is everything going?” Muffet’s black eyes were darting from you, to Sans, and back to you. She looked extremely uncomfortable.

“I’m fine,” You answer, “Are  _you_ okay?” 

Muffet sighs. “Yes, I am alright. Business has just been slow, and my lovelies are growing tired with the overwhelmingly small amount of traffic today.”

You hum in response, spreading the cheesecake spread onto their donuts. There was something she wasn’t telling you.

“I think it may be smart to close early. My pet is probably rather bored all alone at home, after all!” Her trademark giggle reminds you of a lunatic on the TV show Criminal Minds. Needless to say, you were still happy with her decision.

“That sounds wonderful. Want me to close up?” She shakes her head at your offer, ribboned pigtails wisping around her head.

“No need. I can handle closing duty. Thank you for your help today, ____.”

“Anytime, boss!” You chirp, pulling off your apron and heading to the back quickly. Muffet finishes with Sans and Frisk while you gather bus pass and your belongings.

“‘s gettin’ pretty late, huh, kid?” Sans nudges Frisk, who was currently unable to respond due to the mass of rainbow dough in their jaw.

They swallow, sadness gracing their face. “It’s not even six o’clock yet, Sans!”

“i know, Frisk, but don’t ya have homework? tori said ya gotta be home for dinner-”

“I don’t care what mom says,” Frisk grumbles, pouting. A blush encases their cheeks as they realize they probably look like a little child, throwing a tantrum as soon as things go south.

“come on kid. ya can’t act like that, and you know it.”

“Whatever, okay? I’ll go home. Fine.”

Sans’ suspicions were confirmed. Toriel and the kid were certainly having trouble at home, but it was not his place to pry.

“sorry, kid,” He plays it safe, “but if we go now, we can hang out all ya want next time, and tori won’t give us a curfew.”

Frisk smiles at that. “Okay. Thanks for the donut.” Sans waves them off as you approach.

“Where are you two off to now?” You ask, slinging your work bag over your shoulder.

“we’re headin’ home. this lil’ gremlin’s got some homework to do.”

Frisk does nothing but blow a raspberry. Sans grins maniacally, darting down to grab their hips, effortlessly hoisting them up into the air and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. They thrash in his grip, kicking their legs for dramatic effect.

“Sans! Put me down, you loser! I’m not a kid anymore!”

“sorry, kid, can’t hear ya. don’t have ears.” He smiles at your laughter. A 6’5 skeleton gangster was carrying your 14-year-old neighbour like a small child and you thought it was the cutest thing in the world. “i’d give ya a ride home, tooth, but my hands are kinda full.”

“That’s okay. What’s your number?” You ask way too suddenly, and you want to die then and there. He notices your bashfulness.

“a little forward, are we?” He winks and your brain almost shuts down from embarrassment. He laughs at your reaction. “i’m just pullin’ your femur. hand me your phone.”

You open up your contacts and do so, and his fingers suddenly become coated in a cyan gel, as if to surround his skeletal digits with skin. He negates his previous statement and taps his information into your phone, sending himself a text before handing it back to you.

“i’ll see ya around, kid. hurry home, though. s’dangerous at night.”

“Yeah, yeah, get outta here, ya bonehead.” You did your best to imitate his Brooklyn drawl and he outright laughs. You were expecting them to get into Sans’ car, or something, but…

The two become enveloped in a blue aura as they prepare to leave.

“by the way, cute dress, girlie.”

You blink, and they were gone. Your cheeks are lava as you head for the door.

“B-Bye, Muffet!” You call, trying your absolute hardest to forget about his comment. She gives you a four-armed wave as you walk out the doors. The cool, April air hits your face and you’re glad you wore a jacket. The sun was going down and you wanted nothing more than to sleep until this time tomorrow. Work was exhausting, even if you spent most of it lost in your own head.

You check the time on your phone before remembering that Sans texted himself. Reluctantly, you pull up the conversation.

 

**_To: bone daddy ;-) 05:54 PM_ **

_heeey sans its toooooooootttthhhh and i think ur the hottest skeleton 2 rise from the grave_

 

You laugh to yourself. You barely knew the guy, but that was so  _him_. 

 

**_bone daddy ;-) 05:59 PM_ **

_jeez kid, didnt know u felt that way about me_

 

You were midway through typing a response when your world shattered around you.

 

 

A sickeningly loud bang fills the air, the sheer bass shaking the glass windows of the bus station. A gust of burning air pushes you against the bench, your phone whipped against the pavement so hard it cracked. Your vision fills with white, yellow and a blazing orange as the empty street transforms into the world’s largest bonfire. Your ears begin to ring, vision hazy when you remember to breathe.

 

 

Sucking in a breath of pure smoke, your eyes water as you dash out of the bus stop, screams of terror and confusion filling your mind. You cough, the breath stolen from you, your knees weakened. Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to pop. Sirens fill the air, piercing through the horrific crackling of flames. Your blood freezes over as you shakily eye the burning remnants of the donut emporium, the chilling embrace of shock turning your legs into cement, rational thought burned away like the skin of those that stood a little too close. Plumes of smoke and dust cloud the air, pieces of your former workplace crumbling off and joining the pavement with every passing second.

 

 

It felt like forever before control of your body was returned to you. Your skin was so numb you could barely register someone gripping your arms, impeding your movement. Your voice was hoarse and you hadn’t even shouted yet.

 

 

 

**“MUFFET!!!”**

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha just fucking kidding boom goes the dynamite sorry not sorry
> 
> i hope u all liked it! i wonder who grabbed reader??


	6. Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road to recovery is a long one. It's a good thing you got acquainted when you did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM NOT DEAD AHA
> 
> finals went well. i slayed them. i apologize for that brutal hiatus but i also want to thank all of you for being so patient! little reminder u can ask for progress updates or check in on me daily life [here](http://bonethot.tumblr.com) <3
> 
> also a slight warning in this chappie for gore.

 

 

 

Blood coated the walls. Wet coughs and pleads of mercy fell onto deaf ears. Bodies were strewn everywhere, none lucky enough to be beaten within an inch of their crime-ridden lives. The setting sun shone through the skylight, wrapping the menacing skeletal being in a golden halo.

“was that all of ya? i lost count after thirty.” Red’s tooth glimmers in the evening light, an osseous spear at his current victim’s throat. His grin grows at the bloodied human’s whimper, eye sockets widening in what appears to be amusement. “unless ya wanna keep ‘yer organs, ya better tell me why the fuck ya think you can sell humans on our turf.”

“F-Fuck you,” He spits, a blood loogie landing on Red’s combat boots. “I ain’t tellin’ you shit.”

“wrong answer.” Red cracks his knuckles, each individual snap of the metacarpals causing the human to flinch. He snickers, a condescending whine escaping his bony throat. “shame i gotta make ya bleed a bit more.”

The human squeals as Red shallowly drives the spear into his side, dragging it upwards towards his arm. Blood spurts out of the wound, pouring into the significant puddle already formed by the skeleton’s previous carnage. His posture sags as the short-lived amusement dissipates, and he presses it back to his throat.

“feel like cooperatin’ yet?”

His human captive was too busy gasping for air to reply. He was rather young, and Red would have considered feeling guilty if not for the events that took place moments before. After a long while, the human regains his bearings and nods.

“good. watched ya sell all ‘yer meth out to those wizard assholes. how’s’about ya tell me why they gotta _need for speed_?”

Red’s shoulders shake a bit. He made himself laugh.

“We fuckin’ sell and trade drugs like every other gang you stupid fuck,” The human spits, losing strength. Blood was running in rivulets over his yellow jacket. “Just cause you got beef with Magician’s Crew don’t mean shit to us. The guys upstairs don't tell us anything about who or what we’re sellin’.”

Red’s shoulders quake again, but in restraint this time. He was losing his patience. “i ain’t stupid, kid,” He presses the spear against the human’s pulse point. “‘yer gonna tell me what i wanna know or i can bring ‘yer body parts back to yer _banana douchebags_ in a cute little gift bag. s’up to you.”

“I said I don't know anything you fucking _dumbass_ -”

“famous last words.”

Red’s arm was a blur. A sudden, wide slash across the human’s throat effectively keeps that promise. His magically-conjured spear slowly disappears, breaking into uneven pieces and dissipating into the air. He doesn’t even stay to watch the human bleed out. The other members of Iron Justice were long gone at this point, yet the skeleton couldn’t really bring himself to care.

“fuckin’ panzy. sorry to _cut ya off_ , but i got places to be.”

The fishery, about an hour ago, was an absolute crime-fest.

Cargo containers filled with many different drugs were being traded around amongst lawbreakers like Pokemon cards. Normally, The Underground would have a large stake in what was traded and divided up amongst the regional powers but Asgore had ensured that every deal they made was on their own terms.

He also made it clear that anybody to trade on their territory was to face severe consequences. That spelled a death sentence.

Of course, he wasn’t really going to kill everyone. Nine times out of ten it took way too much effort. Things changed as soon as one of the cargo crates were opened and a handful of human women were thrown onto the floor, naked and malnourished, pale from their “shipment” over here.

Red saw, well, _red_ , and now the only survivor was gurgling his last breath. The comments on his stupidity pushed the envelope too.

The skeleton doesn’t bother shutting the warehouse doors as he makes his leave. He reaches his Road King and sighs, leaning against the bike as he digs for a much-needed cigarette. Lighting it, he reflects on the past week.

It fucking sucked.

Now that he and Sans couldn’t work together, jobs got boring. He tried to find fun in the little things: stealing some extra money from a mark, beating people up, going to Grillby’s, beating people up, harassing some crooked cops, beating people up…

It used to be fun. He loved violence. It was so immensely satisfying to feel the bones of his enemies break under his fists with little effort. However, when going in alone, Red realized that Sans was the deciding factor. Punching the shit out of someone was only fun when his partner was doing the same. It was likewise for targets he was paid to kill.

He takes a drag, the smoke billowing through his bones, sticking to his jacket and mingling the scent of blood. He hadn’t seen the other skeleton in a week. Papyrus had visited a few times to drop off some “care packages” as Red hadn’t even been in Sans’ apartment since Asgore had split them up. Of course, he turned them away. He usually felt uncomfortable around the taller skeleton.

Without Sans, nothing was fun anymore, and he hated it. He also hated himself for being so dependent all the time. He growls in frustration, stomping out his cigarette. He had grown progressively more violent as the week went on in some cheap reach for entertainment. The carnage in the warehouse was unnecessary, sure, but at least he had felt _something_.

It was different. Red squashed humans like ants. All they did was kill, ridicule and steal from monsters despite them being so low and vulnerable in society. Human life was feasible and incredibly replaceable. They bred like rabbits anyways.

For once, he just wished that excitement would find him, if just for a moment, to take the place of the growing loneliness inside of his ribcage.

That’s when he heard it.

His crimson pupils dart to the horizon, an explosion cascading into the air, smoke rising above the clouds. Faint screams echoed throughout the town as Red’s soul thrummed with a newfound energy; maybe he lucked out. It seemed to be coming from the corner of Diamond and 8th.

Time stopped for a moment. Diamond Avenue was the most popular district in the West End. And what was the most popular monster establishment in this shithole of a city?

His bike was roaring to life before he knew it, his mind lagging behind his body as he barrels down the street, his hands gripping the rubber handles with such a tightness they squeal under his hold. That was where she worked.

That was where she worked!

That _was_ where…

He doesn’t even bother pulling his glasses and bandana down, the flame in his eyes burning so brightly that no insect dared to fly in front of his skull.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing you became aware of was your throat’s transformation into the Sahara.

The second, once you wiped the tears from your eyes, was the damage. Broken glass, bricks, and chunks of drywall littered the asphalt, the smell of burning wood and flesh permeating your nostrils like a perverse fireplace. The sound of police sirens rang through the alleyways, a small crowd of onlookers making their way out of their townhouses to inspect the devastation. Your heart was lodged in your throat.

“...uman!..”

Your world is a spinning mixture of sound and colour, your knees threatening to give out.

“...ey! sna…”

Something suddenly brings you to your senses, and it’s then you notice the painful squeeze on your arms. You blood begins to thaw.

“SNAP OUT OF IT.” The shout in your ear intensifies the ringing, if only for a moment, causing you to wince. Hard fingers were digging into your shoulders, violently shaking you around, jarring your vision.

“S-stop, what?” You stumble out, confusion lacing your mind. What was…?

An icy cold coils in your chest.

“MUFFET!” You cry, gathering the strength to take off towards the wreckage. That iron grasp rooted you to the spot, painfully tugging you back into a half embrace.

“don’t be fuckin’ stupid!” It growls, and you struggle against your restraints.

“LET GO OF ME!” You cry, your nose burning from the smoke. “She needs me! Muffet-”

“if ya go in there, ya won't make it out!” You're spun around to face a thick leather jacket, belonging only to one monster. Red?

“Red, get the fuck off of me! She could be hurt! Someone has to fucking help her!”

“stay fucking put.” His tone was stern, layered with rage and concern. He was shaking, the rattle of his bones almost loud enough to hear. “don’t move. gimme a sec.”

You're released from his grip and you immediately fall to your knees, eyes growing misty as the panic sets in. Red dashes across the street, the flames swallowing his black silhouette while he vaults inside through a broken window. You decide now is a good time to call the police.

You scramble to pick your shattered phone up off of the floor, not caring about the shards of glass poking your thumbs as you tap away at the screen. You quickly dial 911 and wait, the flames growing larger and threatening to spread to a neighbouring building.

It feels like forever until the dispatcher picks up. You give a brief rundown of the explosion and provide an address before hanging up the phone. As if on queue, a malformed shape emerges from the flames. The very sight is like a punch to the gut.

Red, walking out of the fire unscathed, carrying a broken body over his shoulder. Muffet’s purple dress was blackened and burned away, her skin charred and bubbly, the fine, arachnid hairs coating her limbs melted along with patches of her flesh. You cup a hand over your mouth as they draw closer, the horrors of the explosion almost too much for you to stomach. She was…

She was missing an arm. No, she was missing two, three…

You blink away tears, a lever in the back of your brain being pulled, the remnants of shock and horror being thrown into the corners of your mind as you enter doctor mode.

“she needs help,” Red barks, but you pay him no mind. Her limbs were barely bleeding, you’d noticed, the wounds partially cauterized by the blast. None of her spiders were in sight and she didn’t appear to be breathing. She didn’t have much time, if she was still alive. An icy chill runs along your spine as you mull it over.

You immediately begin scanning Muffet’s wounds. She was bleeding in some places, many of her wounds grafted together into a terrifying, purple amalgam from the heat. She had patches of hair remaining in some places, and her stump limbs were blown off in an unclean fashion. Nausea tickles at the back of your tongue as you spot her shattered exoskeleton jutting out from one of her severed arms. You felt frozen, outmatched. You were always one to help but no amount of anatomy courses could prepare you for this kind of trauma.

“I… I don’t... I need supplies…” Was all you could choke out, panic enveloping your form in an icy grip. “Her… arms, her legs, Red, oh god…”

“snap out of it!” He bellows. “keep ‘yer head. do something!”

“I can't handle this on my own,” You decide, “We need to get to a hospital within the next five minutes.”

“get on my bike,” he nods his head towards the Road King, currently lying flat on the pavement by the bus stop. “i know a shortcut.”

You place yourself behind Red on the seat, clinging to his wide frame. Muffet was lodged between his chest and the handlebars as the motorcycle accelerates way passed the legal limit. Time seemed to move at a blistering pace and before you knew it you were peeling open the hospital doors to make room for Red and your broken friend.

West Ebott General Hospital was the nicest-looking building in this entire part of town. The walls were recently painted, metal framing all of the windows, the skyscraper cutting high above the other low-rise buildings and apartments that littered downtown Ebott. It calmed you to an extent, knowing she was probably in good hands.

Upon your entry, the receptionist immediately shouts for aid, and a stretcher bursts out from behind the medical bay doors, followed by two doctors prepped with their surgeon masks.

“Please,” You almost whimper, as Red gingerly places her onto the table, the doctors immediately wheeling her away. One of the surgeons approaches you, placing her hand on your shoulder. “She’s missing arms, she’s…”

“Miss, we will do all we can. We have a team of surgeons who are specialized in blast trauma.”

That brought little relief. “Please tell me she’ll be alright.”

She appears solemn, before removing her mask to smile. “We have no way of knowing what the future holds, but our team is the best money can buy. Please check in with the receptionist for your hands and we can notify you as soon as possible.”

She turns on her heel and jogs after the stretcher, a handful of blue scrubs following behind her, the swinging doors shut, your view of Muffet dissipating until she was turned down a corner and out of sight. You didn’t realized you were tearing up until the receptionist beckoned you over.

There was no time to grieve. After providing information to the rather nice lady working the reception desk you were whisked away by a doctor to bandage your hands. They were a lot worse than they looked--cleaning and removing bits of dirt and pavement from your scratched palms took up a considerable amount of time.

Police officers had promptly shown up minutes later, and asked about the event as well as whatever information you had about a possible culprit. Some were curious about why you had left in such a rush, but with a wave of your bandaged hands, they got the point. You had also mentioned your friend’s injuries and a vague description of your ride there.

“Miss, if there is anything else you can tell us, please call or visit the station. We are sorry that this happened to you.”

“Will do,” You say, noticing Red sitting outside with his hood up. “And likewise. I want to know who did this.”

The officer nods and speaks to some of the hospital staff members before joining the others and leaving.

Outside, you sit with Red in silence, the sun vanishing behind the low-rise apartments and making you wonder how many hours you must have spent at the hospital. Red was absentmindedly playing with a cigarette while your thoughts were racing in your head. It was pretty obvious that he was hiding himself from the police, but they didn’t seem to notice. He had just gotten off of the phone with Sans. He was pretty reluctant to hang up.

“Thank you,” You nudge his arm, “For everything back there. If you hadn’t shown up, I...I don’t want to think about what would have happened.”

Red pauses for a while, twirling the dart in his claws. Ash from the fire clung to his expensive-looking jacket, the black leather warped into a damaged grey. He felt uncomfortable, but he wasn’t about to leave.

“s’fine,” He says, “dun’ worry ‘bout it.”

You find yourself at a loss for words. Your heart was still beating irregularly, a small ringing in your ears popping up every once in awhile, despite the explosion taking place hours ago. Red just fearlessly walked into a burning building and prolonged your friend’s life. The thought was absolutely maddening.

Not to mention, just what the _hell_ even happened? Why would anyone want to target such an innocent place, especially on a slow business day? Muffet was the only monster in the store.

“Her spiders?” You suddenly remember to ask, feeling a tad guilty.

His lack of response told you enough. Muffet would be devastated, if she ever woke up.

If.

You sigh, tired of the emotions buzzing through your chest all day. You were slightly relieved to feel them mellowing out into a numbness.

“Why did this happen?”

Red stops fiddling with his darts and stares at his own two feet.

“I don’t understand. Muffet would never hurt anyone. Did she have enemies? Why-”

“magician’s crew,” Red grumbles, “it was them. m’sure of it. the underground goes there all the time, an’ what better way ta hurt monsters than blowin’ their favourite place up?”

That had crossed your mind before, but it didn’t stop the wave of nausea that travelled through you. If that was the case, than they really did mean business. What else could they be capable of? There were also a few human civilians who were caught up in the crossfire. How could the hatred of monsterkind push someone to kill even their own species?

You stand up, deciding it was time for a distraction. The feelings of panic and fear began to grow taxing. Red raises a bony brow as you stretch your spine.

“I need to relieve some stress.”

Red glances at the box of darts beside him but you wave him off.

“Nah,” You start. “I need to get drunk. I don’t know if I have enough liquor in my cabinet for the both of us, so we could go to a bar instead.”

He rubs the back of his skull, piercing the cig in his hand with a single claw. He was practically radiating discomfort, and you quickly pick up on it.

“W-Well, I mean, you don’t _have_ to,” You’re suddenly bashful. The day’s events had rendered your self-confidence irrelevant for a few hours. “You can, if you want. There’s this place on Diamond, I dunno if you’ve been. I mean, I haven’t, I’ve heard it’s good though, and if you wanna tag along, that’d be cool, cause it’s kinda lame to just, show up at a bar alone, and there might be creeps there, and if they knew I was your date, they’d-”

Realizing what you’ve said, you quickly turn to Red with your arms in a defensive position, ready to stammer apologies. The skeleton’s cheekbones were dusted with such a violent crimson that it almost hurt to look at.

“I-I-I mean, not a _date_ date, but a f-friend date? A fate. A fate to Grillby’s.” You honestly wish you had just shut up at that point. Why was talking around golden boy so difficult all of a sudden?

Red lets out a sharp exhale before standing up to join you. He shoves his cigarettes in his pocket, muttering a curse as half of them crumple against the hard edge of his jacket.

“ok.”

“Okay?”

“yeah. les’ go.” He grumbles, walking past you and towards his bike. “was planning on goin’ ta grillby’s before shit hit the fan earlier.”

“Alright, I need to get my phone. I left it with the receptionist so I could clear my head.”

He bends over to inspect his tires, pretending not to hear you. Deciding to see what you’ve missed while your phone was off, you press the power button after retrieving it from the nurse working the counter.

It was then that your phone explodes, countless notifications flying over your lock screen, the obnoxious “ding” text tone you had set months prior causing your Apple device to sound like the musical triangle of a child needing anger management.

After the onslaught you scrolled up a tad. 16 missed calls from “Toriel (pie emoji) (purple heart emoji)” and 3 from “bone daddy ;-).” Frisk had called you once too.

You felt guilty for leaving your phone off for this long. They must have been worried sick, even if Red chatted with Sans about yours and Muffet’s wellbeing. Heading back out into the parking lot, you call for Red.

“I think I’ve gotta head home first. Grillby’s isn’t that far away from the apartment, and it’s not dark yet, so I can just walk. I’ll meet you there.”

“uh, sure, i guess.” Comes his response, and Red looks like he’s trying really hard to add something onto his statement.

“Would you mind dropping me at home?” You read his mind. He nods hastily and hops onto his bike, turning the ignition key. The hellish Road King roars to life, a burst of hot air aimed right at your dress turning you and your tattered work uniform into Marilyn Monroe.

His bike was so obnoxiously loud that others in the parking lot had to cover their ears. You weren’t even sitting down yet and the massive exhaust pipes were already giving you a headache.

That still didn’t stop you from finding it incredibly alluring.

The drive home was short. You had thanked Red profusely and dashed inside, holding your dress in an attempt to not let it fly up again. You speed-waddled like a penguin on LSD, and Red thought it was adorable.

He thought _you_ were adorable. A friend-date? A fate? Who the hell thinks of that? It made him feel all gross and tingly just thinking about the huge blush on your cheeks when you stuttered and tripped over your words. He was kinda disappointed that you were only going as friends, but at least you wanted to go with him. As much as he hated to admit, he liked being at the hospital with you, even if it was over such a godawful event.

His mind slips to the way your arms were around him as you both rode on his motorcycle, and the very thought causes him to accidentally accelerate and almost crash into the building wall. You were so delicate, compared to him. He was a giant skeleton, for crying out loud, a skeleton who gets paid to _murder people_ , yet here you were clinging onto him, making conversation with him, and even _thanking_ him like you would anybody else. He felt unbridled guilt from your wasting your time on someone like him.

Red squeezes his own throat in an attempt to rid himself of the choked-up feeling he had. He almost lost that today, because of some stupid chain of events, because it would have been a reminder that he didn’t ever deserve what the past two years had brought to him.

He decides to leave before someone sees him lurking like a loser outside. Pulling up his bandana, he pulls a U-turn and heads for Grillby’s. But there was someone he had to speak with first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also since y'all waited so long..chapter 7 is being edited and shall be posted by the end of the week <3 finally some REAL UPDATES
> 
> this chappie was a little boring but i will sure as hell make up for it next week. hope y'all look forward to the fate!


	7. Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An uber-platonic super-friendly friend-date. As friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also i had to throw this in here what tHe fuck over 500 kudos for this dumb lil fic i am so flattered god i love you all

 

 

Pulled over in an alleyway on Diamond, Red sat on top of a dumpster. His hands were on his skull, trying to focus.

“i thought we had a deal,” He hisses. “what the hell were you thinking?” 

Expecting anger, Red was surprised when his head was filled with amusement. 

**You make it sound as if that was my doing.**

“don’t patronize me. i know it was.” 

**Oooh, ‘patronize.’ Now there is a big word.**

Red growls, regretting his quest for answers altogether. 

**No need to be so touchy. What transpired today took place because of my assistant.**

“assistant?” He asks a little too loudly, and he tries to make himself appear to be speaking in an earpiece to anyone who walked by.

**I will not elaborate.**

“fine, but w-what stopped ‘yer hired help from just blowin’ the place up from the get go?” He was nervous.

**I told them to ensure the safety of you, our target, and,** **_ugh_ ** **, that harlot.**

Red boils with anger, but he knows he can’t do anything. 

**With that said, I am busy. Do not contact me again until you’ve something important to present.**

The voice dissipates in a flurry of static, leaving Red with a headache only poison could solve.

 

 

* * *

 

The trip was fast. You beelined to knock on Toriel’s door, immediately getting a facefull of white fur. That was easily the softest hug in your life. After a reassuring conversation that you were fine, you were happy to see that Frisk wasn’t shaken by things either. They were more upset that someone had the nerve to do such a thing, especially to their favourite eaterie. 

Before you had a chance to open your own door, Papyrus had you in his arms, hoisted a couple feet off the ground. That was easily the  _ roughest _ hug in your life, but damn if it didn’t make you smile like an idiot. You had asked after Sans, but Papyrus told you he went out for errands. He was definitely on a job. With Papyrus’s intimidating height, it was easy to forget he didn’t know anything about The Underground outside of his brother’s “obviously non-lethal” employment, and the floor’s security. He most likely didn’t even know why the floor  _ needed _ security. 

You had changed out of your work uniform in record time, not wanting to keep Red waiting too long. Slipping on a casual plaid shirt with black jeans, you combed your hair and touched up your face a bit before evaluating your choices in the mirror. This wasn’t a date, it was a purely platonic gathering of just you and Red at a bar for the evening. Just two buds grabbing some drinks, right?

Yeah, no. You were doing a fine job at suppressing nerves but one slip up and some asshole would unleash a horde of butterflies in your stomach. You had read in a Cosmopolitan article weeks ago that a good way to eliminate first-date nerves was to put  _ him _ in a flustered position. This wasn’t a date, but, maybe it would help weed out your anxieties. 

You gracefully undo a few buttons on your shirt after equipping your favourite push-up bra. Did monsters sexualize the same things that humans did? Skeletons like boobs, right? Who doesn’t like boobs? Boobs are great. You spray some of your favourite flowery perfume and head out. 

It’s a good thing you do yoga otherwise the speedwalk there would have rendered you a sweaty mess on arrival.

The walk wasn’t too long. You noted the streets were almost as barren as they were when the explosion took place hours before. If anything, Muffet’s Emporium going up in smoke was a message to the monsters of Ebott. Nothing, not even their own quarter of the city, was safe for them. The very thought makes your heart sink a bit. You hoped no one would point out the sadness on your face when you got there.

You had a good feeling about this place. You had yet to meet a monster you didn’t get along with, and well, Grillby’s seemed just about packed with them. You could hear the ruckus outside, drunken shouts and laughter practically drowning out the street traffic.

Upon entering Grillby’s, you noted it was a cute, dingy hole-in-the-wall kind of establishment. Maple wood lined the floors and furniture, the walls painted a mahogany-brown, a welcome change from the neon lighting on Diamond Avenue. It was absolutely packed. You recognize almost every single patient you had treated within the past month and they recognized you too. 

The bar quickly becomes a crescendo of “Doctor Heartbreak!” and “Nurse Joy!”, smiling faces and ale hopelessly sloshing around pulling you into a warm, accepting hug. You’d only been in Grillby’s for three seconds, and you felt like you never wanted to leave. The tacky bar already became your favourite hangout before the smoky scent of incense even hit your nose.

You waved to a few of the patrons, scanning the crowd for a big, bald head. The menacing skeleton was situated on a bar stool, other monsters keeping a generous distance. Weaving through the sea of patrons probably wouldn’t be so hard if not for the added challenge of dodging ale, spirits and liquor flying out of anybody’s mug. 

Despite the events of the day, everyone seemed cheerful. The positive atmosphere of the bar was epidemically contagious and you feel your sadness about the day ebbing away with every passing moment. However, your “fate” propped on a barstool in solitude almost hurt to look at. Red seemed so melancholy on his own.

“Red?” You prod the big skeleton when you pull up a barstool next to him. Your nerves hadn't kicked in yet and you were hoping you could at least get tipsy before that happens. 

He turns to you, scarlet pupils locking with yours for a brief moment before drowning themselves in his ale.

“hey.”

“You normally sit alone?” 

He doesn't reply, taking a swig. 

A brilliant light catches your eye and you almost fall out of your chair. You were lucky you had company, as a hard hand at the small of your back prevents the possibly-embarrassing tumble. 

“easy, it’s just the bartender.” Red mutters, trying not to look too concerned. 

You stare up at the flaming man who caught you off guard. A fire elemental, you had heard about, happened to run Grillby’s. You were still spooked from earlier events, but that didn’t stop guilt from creeping up your spine. His fire burned differently than that of the Emporium, his head resembling that of a candle flame. He wore a sharp vest and dress shirt, both of which were spotless, complete with a cute little bowtie. He was pretty hot for an anthropomorphic fire. 

You would  _ have _ to text Sans that one.

“S-Shit, I’m sorry,” You splutter. “Grillby, I presume? It’s nice to meet you. I love your bar.” 

Grillby says nothing, polishing a mug. It appears he wasn’t one for conversation. Wanting to dive out of this awkward encounter you turn to Red.

“What do you wanna order?” 

“uh…what?”

“I’m buying you a drink. You stayed with me all day and you even jumped into a burning building for my friend. I...I don’t know how to repay you but this could be a start.” 

“o-oh,” He nearly chokes trying to finish his drink. “w-watermelon mimosa.”

“Really?” You giggle, having a double take. Grillby’s flames crackled slightly and faded into a bright yellow. “You’re a bounty hunter, probably hit a few marks earlier, dove in and out of a burning building, all in one day… and you want to get a mimosa?” 

“sh-shut up!” He barks, cheeks dusted in crimson. “they’re cheap an’ taste good!” 

“Alright, alright,” You raise your arms in mock-defense before turning to the bartender. “Two watermelon mimosas please, Grillby. Would you mind making them extra strong?” He nods his head before vanishing to the other end of the bar, likely to tend to other patrons. He was so graceful you didn’t even notice him taking Red’s mug and replacing it with a glass of water while you chatted. 

Red slouches into his stool, embarrassment clear on his face. You would have felt a little guilty if it wasn’t so hilarious. His stoicism helped in easing your nerves a bit.

“So,” You start, “Where did you learn how to ride like that?” 

Red nearly spits out the last of his water.

“I mean your motorcycle, God.” 

“i learned how a few years back,” He swallows. “i used to drive this shit dirt bike before i could afford what i got now.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I have a question, though,” Red meets your gaze, mirroring your curiosity. “Why don’t you just teleport places like your brother?” 

“my brother…?” He swirls his water around absentmindedly. “yeah, Sans just… likes to show off.” 

“I figured as much.” 

Red didn’t seem to be too happy, so naturally, you decide to try and make conversation. Maybe he was just lonely. 

“It’s Red, right?” You ask, and he turns to you with confusion. 

“uh, yeah? ya’ve been callin’ me that without trouble.” 

“But,  _ just _ Red? Isn’t that just a nickname?” 

He pauses for a bit, staring at his water. 

“no, it ain’t.” 

“Really?” You tease, “Is it one of those code names? It’s kinda like a movie trope, you know, the one where the guy never says his real name until the end, and he’s uses it to be all mysterious-”

“it’s just Red!” He snaps, growling, eyes flashing the same colour. “quit askin’ stupid questions.”

Shocked and a little guilty, you turn back to your own glass of water. 

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I was just teasing.” 

Upon seeing your hurt expression, Red feels nothing but shame. 

“‘s fine.”

You didn’t know what else to say, and the two of you tumble into another awkward silence. He obviously didn’t either. Grillby becomes a knight in flaming armour when he returns with your comically pink drinks, and you decide to lighten up the mood a bit.

“Thanks, Grillby. Would you mind coming back with a few shots?” He nods, whisking away to the storage room. “Hey, Red, let’s toast.” 

“huh?” The skeleton looks up from twiddling his claws. “what for?” 

“To getting drunk!” You exclaim, raising your glass. To your surprise, some other patrons who had heard you raised their mugs too, echoing your shout. If you had worse eyesight, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the beginnings of a smile tugging at his bony lips.

“ta gettin’ drunk.” 

 

 

* * *

 

“a-a-and then i says to the guy, ‘lemme take that bike off yer hands, cause ya ride like a  _ cycle-path. _ ’ he nearly pisses himself on the spot, an’ Sans was jus’ howlin’ in the corner cause he heard the whole thing!”

You were in tears from laughter, your stomach muscles aching. If you didn’t have washboard abs by the end of the night you would be surprised. Maybe the last two drinks were a mistake, but Red was opening up more and more. He was almost an entirely different person when he was drunk, telling by his bravado. Turns out, despite resembling a giant creature from Hell itself, he prefers sweet drinks over hard liquor. He was shocked to find out you were the opposite. 

“Holy shit,” You breathe through tears, “That’s like, the fucking funniest story I’ve ever heard. And the cycle puns! Red, you’re like a poet!” 

“i know!” He exclaims, beside himself. His cheeks were permanently crimson from the sheer amount of alcohol in his system--or lack of--and you found it adorable. 

“Wanna know why I’m focussing on medical sciences in school?” You prod his shoulder, grasping the leather with your hand for a moment. It was so soft, yet rough at the same time. 

“heh, why?”

“C-Cause,” You sputter, holding back your laughs, “I didn’t have the patience for  _ cycle-ology class. _ ” 

Red sits there, dumbfounded for a moment, before throwing his skull back and  _ howling _ . His laughter was so loud and booming that you could feel it vibrating the countertop. 

“that,” He coughs, “that was fuckin’ hilarious. you’re so drunk.” 

“Maybe I can’t  _ handle-bars _ .” You gesture wildly to the establishment, and Red chuckles at that. You were getting progressively drunker, feeling your consciousness clock in for a break. 

“‘pparently not.” He smacks your back and you spill your sticky, red drink all over yourself. 

“s-shit, sorry, my bad.” 

“No harm done, chum.” 

Red was beside himself. Chum? He looks back at you and sucks in a breath. 

You were licking the thick, scarlet liquid off of your hand in slow, sensual strokes. You moan at the taste, eyeing Red as you clean yourself, dipping a hand down between your legs to scrub off some of your iced sangria before it becomes a stain. The skeleton thought he was about to have a heart attack, despite not even having one.

“A-are you okay?” You ask, obliviously sucking the juice off of your fingers. 

“y-yeah,” He begins to sweat. “we should leave soon. it’s late.”

“Wait! Gimme your number in apology f-for my spilled drink.” He hands you his Nokia, blushing like an idiot. 

“Oh my god, this is like a dinosaur.”

“it’s cheap!” He protests. “lea’ me alone.”

“Fine,” You were snickering at this point, punching in your name and number. “Man, this thing doesn’t even have emojis.”

“who needs emojis? shit’s useless.”

“Whatever, grumps. I totally just--hic--gave myself the best name. Check it in the morning, it’s waaaay more fun that way.” 

Red takes back his phone and shoves it in his pocket. You sent him a text from your own phone to swap numbers. 

The bar was pretty empty. Many had cleared out around midnight, as the club around the corner opened a few hours ago. Shit, what time was it? 

“jeez, it’s quarter to three. lemme get ya home.” Red apparently could read minds. 

“I  _ knoooow _ I should go to sleep eventually, but it’s not like I gotta be up for--hic--work, or anything,” You whine, adopting a bitter tone. Red winces at your statement. “Lemme tell you somethin’ real quick.” 

“yeah? what is it?” You were drunk out of your mind, and Red knew it. He thought you were being absolutely fucking adorable. 

“You were  _ so _ cool today, golden boy,” You exclaim, “Like, so cool. It was--hic--fuckin’ crazy how you just jumped into a burning building. It was like Mission Impossible or-or some shit.” 

He was bashful, rubbing the back of his skull. “ahh, jeez kid. wasn’t  _ that _ big of a deal.” 

“B-But it was!” You argue, hiccupping so violently you lose your train of thought, dissipating into a fit of giggles. 

“alright, we’re leavin’. c’mon.” He stands, gently helping you to your feet. You immediately stumble when he lets go, so he loops his arm through yours. Grillby returns from the back, likely to close up shop, surprised to see the pair of you still there. 

“W-We were just leaving, Grillby sir!” You salute him. 

Grillby stares at you a moment, giving Red a knowing look, who promptly returns it. His flames turn a bright yellow and his shoulders shake. You quickly break free of Red’s arm, running over and encompassing the skinny flame-man in a bear hug. 

“Your drinks were good, sir.” You turn and stumble back over to Red, sticking your arm through his and heading for the door. Grillby was left in slight confusion, his cheeks pink from the embrace. He feels around his back pocket and finds a $20 you planted, shaking his head.

Despite the accident, monsters were still wandering Diamond Avenue like nobody’s business. You passed the silence by waving to strangers, left and right, who happily returned the gesture. This part of town was so much friendlier, and alcohol certainly helped to realize it. You and Red were cracking jokes at one another on the way home like long-lost friends reunited under the noble banner of alcohol. By the time the two of you made it to your door, you didn’t want to part. 

“Red, nooooooo.” 

“where are ‘yer keys, kid?” You obediently place them in his hand, reminding yourself of a puppy. Puppies were so adorable. 

He quickly unlocks the door, relinquishing his hold on your arm. You feel so cold at the loss of touch. 

“Noo, Jack, don’t let go.”

“you’re tanked, kid. ya need ta go to bed.” Red sobered up pretty fast on the walk home, and you figured it was just a monster thing. It was pretty unfair that he could recover so quickly, but you were too happy to care. 

“Carry meeeeee,” You demand, draping your arms around his neck and hanging on for dear life. The spines on his jacket poke into your skin but you ignore it, relinquishing the strength in your legs and placing all of your weight onto him. 

“s-seriously?”

“Red, pleeease?” You give him the best puppy dog eyes you could manage in that state, and he caves. 

“ _ argh _ , fuck, fine,” He growls, face shifting back into the tomato you witnessed by the hospital earlier this evening. You inwardly cheer as he straightens you out, yanking you up a foot off of the ground. He twists your body so your legs are wrapped tightly around his midsection, face pressed against his hard chest, and you cling to him like a baby koala. He grumbles his discomfort as he walks to your bedroom.

“You’re so hard,” You whisper, and he stiffens before realizing you were referencing his bones.

“where’s ‘yer bed?” He asks, gruff voice in your ear. 

“S-second room on your left,” You yawn, exhaustion taking you. 

Red doesn’t bother flicking on the light, perfectly capable of seeing in the dark on his own. He gingerly places you on your bed, shaking slightly to break the death grip you had on his jacket. You collapse on your pillows, snoring softly, already in a deep sleep. 

He chuckles to himself at your hoarse snores. The wind billowed in through your open blinds, moonlight occasionally shining through and cascading your face in ethereal light. Red feels his soul pulse as he eyes your sleeping form, sweat from the soon-to-be summer sun beading down your neck, your disheveled appearance alone causing his magic to billow around behind his ribs. He notices you shiver, discomfort lacing your features and he acts with haste. Instinctively, he grabs the throw blanket at the edge of your bed and covers you with it, and you curl up into an unconscious burrito.

He closes both doors behind him, locking the front with his magic. Red speed-walks back to his own apartment, awaiting the hours of reflection and restlessness. Suddenly remembering your earlier banter, he pulls out his phone. He scrolls to the notification of a new conversation, opening it.

  
  


**_red 2:41 AM_ **

_ Yo doctor mmama is your oven on fire b/c youre smokin xox _

 

**_Mega Hot Nurse:) 2:43 AM_ **

_ Aw thanks golden boy!! I better see you at my wine night. [][][] (Those are emojis. Look at what you’re missing out on.) _

  
  


He couldn’t help but laugh at your messages. The smile on his face began to hurt his cheeks. As he lay himself to bed, he checked the messages once more before attempting to drift off.

The butterfly colony residing in his ribcage transformed into a barrage of tingly, pink fireflies. He felt like clawing out his eyes and he didn’t even have any. Fuck, he was  _ so _ boned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wonder what the deal is...hmmm....
> 
> drunk Red was too fun to write GOD i love big angry monsters with dumb schoolgirl crushes my gay heart cannot take this
> 
> anyways I'm slowly piecing together the next chapter but I've been playing dragon age inquisition again so I'm distracted ALL THE TIME and I'm sorry but perhaps...i will update punctually...
> 
> thanks for reading guys!!


	8. A Fish Out of Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hangovers suck, but good thing that's the least of your worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for being patient as always everyone! this shortish chapter was fun to write. undyne is my mom.

 

 

Throughout high school, you kept a rule of thumb to shy away from tequila at parties. The last time you took shots of it, you ended up “breakdancing” in the living room of a house party, which really just consisted of your legs flopping around off-beat like you were fighting the urge to pee. Since then, you hadn’t even been near the satanic liquor, let alone drank it. Unfortunately for you, bad habits die hard.

Aside from the angry, thunderous hangover raging through your brain, it sounded like someone was knocking on one of your windows hard enough to crack glass. It would have been pretty liable to conclude that you were still drunk from the previous night. Your memories, those that weren’t completely botched from the alcohol, ease back into your pounding head as you lay under your bed sheets, breathing through your open mouth long enough for the drool on your cheeks to crystalize.

Oh, fuck.

You went out with _Red_ last night. Albeit platonic, you were way passed the level of casual friendship. You get clingy when you’re drunk, especially around male friends, and you were 99% sure you held onto his arm for a pretty big chunk of the night. Not to mention, you were currently wrapped in a throw blanket, yet all you remembered was landing face first in your sheets. There was no way you could have taken off your boots and transformed yourself into a bedroom fajita while unconscious. That would mean…

You suddenly felt like pounding your head against the wall on beat with your raging headache. Red was the sweetest guy ever!

The incessant tapping at your window didn’t stop anytime soon. It was then you remembered that you aid literal criminals and that was probably someone who needed urgent assistance. Whoever it was, they were gonna wait for you to at least wash the drool off of your face.

“We have a chime, no need to crack my window,” You yawn, leaning over the sill. “I know I’m a doctor and all, but for god sakes, man, it’s 6 in the morning-”

Upon opening your eyes you were met with the shiny, scaled face of Undyne. However...outside of her usual teal glow, she was radiating...crimson?

No. Not now. Not less than a day after the explosion and another one of your friends was...

“Undyne? H-Holy shit, come inside, please, what happened?” Your mind was racing a mile a minute and you somehow managed to shove your entire hangover into a cognitive storage locker.

“Hey punk,” She winks, flashing that normally pointed grin, and you notice a few teeth were missing. She dives into your apartment and plops herself down on your service table.

“Your scales are covered in blood. Please tell me this isn’t as bad as it looks.”

“This? Hah, no worries,” She shrugs, smug and protagonistically, “Most of this blood isn’t even mine.”

“Wanna tell me what the hell happened?” After deeming Undyne fit for survival, you were more annoyed than worried. At least, you told yourself that.

“I jumped some guys a few hours ago and it ended kinda rough. ‘Magician’s Crew’ my ass, there’s nothing magic about those nerds!”

You rip open your drawer and pull out your trusty first-aid kit. Already you had hand wraps and bandages dipped in seatea oil, as you had figured out on your own.

“ _You_ jumped _them_? I thought the King had ordered a defensive lockdown.”

“Well,” She rubs the back of her head, wincing as her claws ghost over a welt the size of an apple. “I was...defending things.”

You raise a brow, tightening the bandages around her arms a bit.

“I was defending...my property! Yeah, Asgore wants us to defend monster property, and those geeks were totally, you know, flipping cars on Fifth Court?”

“Undyne, Fifth Court is in the East End, right next to city hall.”

“Psh, well, you know, duty calls, and stuff…”

“Duty calls in the human suburbs of Ebott, yeah?” You giggle.

“Okay, fine! I’ve been taking matters into my own hands, and I haven’t been ‘exactly,’” She air quotes, “Following orders. So what? I’ve done nothing but good things for The Underground. _Someone_ has to stick it to those bigots.”

“You gotta be more careful. You’re going to get yourself killed, Undyne.”

“Fat chance. I’m doing just fine.”

“Come on,” You plead, “It’s not worth risking your life. Your boss probably has the best intentions not only for his gang, but for monsterkind too.”

“You don’t know that,” She growls, frustrated to even speak his name. “ _Asgore’s_ too cowardly to take the fight to them. I’m tired of having to be kind about things when we could easily just find out where their base is and knock them flat.”

You were growing aggravated with the banter, and she was too. “Look, I get you’re pissed off. But seriously, why can’t you just listen to Asgore on this one?”

“What would _you_ know about this?” She turns to you, her good eye blazing with anger. A cold pang of shock stabs into your chest and you stop mid-way through wrapping her twitching knuckles. “How could you possibly understand our pain?”

“I don’t-”

“That’s right, you don’t. You’re just a _human_. Our existence is a crime in your eyes, not counting all of the illegal shit we have to do just to put food on the table for our kids. Asgore’s ex is probably one of the only monsters in this end of the city who has an honest living, and even then it’s barely enough for fucking groceries.”

She was right. Toriel was barely affording her rent, Frisk had confided to you, and she was a middle school teacher. The apartment itself was a shithole but that of course didn’t stop real estate companies from completely screwing over monsters.

“Undyne, please-”

“ _Shut up_.”

You bite your lip, too flustered to care it was quivering.

“I’m tired of hearing about being the bigger person and _acting civil_ when one of our favourite hangouts went up in smoke and our close friend had her fucking legs blown off!” She was standing now, her face almost as red as the blood marking it. It felt like you just got punched in the gut. “I’m doing the right thing when everyone else is blind to it, and I can’t even see out of one of my damn eyes. They want us all to _die_ , and nobody is taking it seriously!”

Your sniffle catches her off guard. Through watery eyes you gather the strength to meet her gaze, but her anger had faded entirely into regret. It was clear on her face.

“S-Shit, ______, I…”

“It’s fine,” You whisper, a tad embarrassed for almost crying. “I probably deserved that. I shouldn’t have spoken like I knew everything.”

“Nah, you didn’t,” She sighs, “You were worried, and...I was just pissed about Asgore and I took it out on you.”

You wipe away your eyes, a little relieved that her anger was just misplaced. Her words, on the other hand, did hold a lot of truth to them. You _were_ a human, privileged within reason, not in fear of walking down certain streets at all times of the day (outside of being a woman, of course), or of your favourite donut shop exploding with you in it because an entire race wants you dead or worse.

“I was there, you know,” You start, “When the emporium was destroyed. I clocked out five minutes before.”

She winces. “I heard. Also heard Sans’s weird twin helped save her life.”

“Yeah. I know my sympathies don’t mean a lot, but, what those disgusting, monster-hating terrorists are doing is horrible and now that I’ve seen it up close, I am really sorry you have to deal with it. I may have dropped Psych in high school, but I’m still here if you ever need to...vent, alright?” You apply balm on one of her damaged scales before tightening a bandage around it. “I’m a good listener, I think, and I can try and help that way.”

Undyne’s fins straighten, and her jagged smile returns again. “I shouldn’ta blown my cool like that. Thanks, _____. You’re pretty great, for a human, that is.” She prods you on the shoulder with a fist.

You playfully nudge her back, careful not to touch any of the inflamed skin. “Yeah yeah. So, did you just jump those guys without thinking?”

“Um, no,” She makes a face halfway between amused and offended. “Of course I have a plan. It’s called beat them up till they stop moving.”

“Undyne…”

“Okay, okay, yeah I thought this out. I’ve been working on finding out where they have a base of operations. Every gang needs one, but apparently, no one knows where it is. Other gangs have been pushing and selling drugs to them and stuff, but anyone who tries to follow them and figure out where they’re set up doesn’t come back.”

“That sounds ominous.” You wipe up a bit of dried blood from under her nose, snickering when she holds back a sneeze.

“Yeah, for real. Except, that doesn’t have to be the case anymore, now that I’ve got _this,_ ” She exclaims, reaching into the back pocket of her leather pants and pulling out a crumpled slip of paper.

“Is that...a receipt?”

“What? No--oh, shit, my bad,” She tosses it on the floor and tries her front pocket. “I found this in some chump’s pocket after I put him out cold. Look.”

She hands you the wrinkly message, and scribbled in chicken-scratch was the word “Buttercup,” along with a series of numbers.

“Pretty cool right? Now all I gotta do is crack the code, and I’ll be well on my way to beating these assholes for good-”

“It’s a date,” You say, handing it back to her and starting to pack up your aid kit. “‘06-06-6X.’ Kinda creepy, but this is referring to the sixth of June, of this year.” You felt somewhat accomplished for solving such a basic puzzle, like Nancy Drew. Undyne sat with her jaw wide open.

“Seriously?!” She slaps her forehead with her palm, “Argh, whatever. I’m way too tired to handle a brain-teaser like this. I have half a mind to ask Papyrus for help. He loves puzzles!”

“Want me to call him?”

“NO WAY!” She yells, arms flailing. “Papyrus is my best friend, but he cannot keep a secret for the life of him. Once he knows, it’s only a matter of time before he tells his brother, who tells Asgore, who turns me into a fish fillet. Well, he would never do that, but still.”

“Alright, alright, I won’t.”

“And you have to promise me not to tell _anyone_. Not even if my or your life depended on it.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?” You finish dressing the wound on her forearm and step back to admire your handiwork.

“_______, if I risk Asgore finding out, this whole thing’ll be shut down and we’ll be forced to sit and wait while Magician’s Crew just destroys, I don’t know, everything? Like hell I’m gonna let that happen.”

“What about your girlfriend?” You ask, and she freezes.

“I know you were planning on having us over tonight, and if you so much as _think_ about telling her then, I’m gonna knock you into next week.”

“I know how much this means to you Undyne, and I promise I’m not going to get in the way of that, but seriously, what happens if you get hurt, or worse? A lot of you guys might depend on me for a quick, law-free tune-up, but I’m not a miracle worker. I can’t fix injuries that you can’t walk away from.”

“Please, _____. You have to trust me. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll agree only on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“If I see you’re in over your head, I’m calling your boss.”

“You don’t even have his phone number,” She huffs.

“Nope, but Sans does, and he’s only a dial away. Please, for the love of god, be careful.”

“Okay, deal,” She nods, extending her hand. For someone who was too tired to think for more than twenty seconds, her handshake was so assertive she managed to transform your arm into playdough. “I’d better head, though. It’s already eight in the morning and I promised Alph I’d walk her to campus.”

“Yeah, sure. Are you still dropping by tonight?”

“I dunno. Will there be anime?”

“Anime? You want to watch anime at an alcoholic dinner party?”

“I’m just screwing with you,” She cackles, “I’ll be out of your hair, now. Thanks, doc!”

Undyne dives back out of your window, rolling onto the cracked alleyway pavement and dashing around the corner. So much for being tired.

Speaking of tired, you could barely stand. Knowing that you were too ‘awake’ to fall back asleep, you head into your kitchen to brew some coffee. You pulled out a notebook from your gimmick drawer, along with a pen, marking down the beginnings of a plan for your wine night in about ten hours.

As the caffeine slowly causes your headache to recede, you find it hard to focus. Your mind kept drifting back to the previous night. Going out to a cute bar, getting closer with someone you wouldn’t have deemed as interesting and well-rounded as Red had you not made any effort to get to know him. Hell, he even tucked you into bed, of all things.

You thought of his laugh, and that genuine smile he gave when you listened to the stories he told about his and Sans’s work. How his voice sent shivers down your spine but made your chest fill with nervousness. He had finally seemed relaxed, firing jokes like no tomorrow, a stark contrast to his regular personality, but you were sure the alcohol simply helped him crack his shell open a bit. He was tall, dark and handsome, and you wanted to punch yourself for how long it took you to realize it.

You liked him, and dammit, you wanted him to like you back.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhaaaaa and the confession is out there!
> 
> got a little treat for some of you in a few days. 18+ only if u catch my drift :^)
> 
> love you all! yell at me (or shower me with praise) at [me tumblr](http://bonethot.tumblr.com)
> 
> ALSO IF ANY OF YOU PLAY OVERWATCH AND/OR SMASH 4 WII U LET ME KNOW I NEED GAMING FRIENDS


	9. Good Morning *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A restless sleep is best followed with a hot shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i figured hell 9 chapters is enough to give a little taste of whats to come next right?
> 
> a warning for light smut. 18+ only should continue cause I'm not trying 2 end up in jail.

_ “Hey,” You drawl, in that sultry tone he loved so much. Your eyelids were fluttering, your body opening up to him as he begins to lean over your half-awake form. The two of you were spooning, much to his delight. “Couldn’t wait till the sun came up, I see?” _

_ “quit teasin’,” He groans, voice scratchy with sleep. “ya haven’t slept a wink, rubbin’ me like that.”  _

_ “Can’t help it. You feel nice against my skin.”  _

_ It was him who should be saying that to you. He feels your hands clasp over his as you squirm in his grip, your backside rubbing against his half-exposed pelvis. “I’m really cold, baby.” _

_ “oh yeah?” _

_ “Yeah,” He could hear the pout in your voice. “Can you help me warm up?”  _

_ “how do ya want me to do that?” He purrs, rough hands tracing the curve of your hips and ass. He chuckles in your ear, dark and promising. “y’already took ‘yer panties off, huh?” _

_ “Now who’s the one who’s teasing?” _

_ “can’t help it,” He mimics, his touch dipping down into your thighs, cupping you. You arch yourself into his warmth, a calloused palm grasping your breast with sleep-deprived intensity. “‘yer so fuckin’ soft.”  _

_ “Mmm, kiss me.” _

_ He turns you to face him, pressing his teeth against your  _ _ soft  _ _ lips, breathing through his nose hole as the kiss grows heated. His claws drag along your exposed skin, your own moans swallowed by his hungry fangs and tongue.  _

_ You’re the one to break the kiss, his tongue sliding out of your throat and allowing you to gasp for air. You had a death grip on his clavicle, eyes silently begging for more. It was pitch black but he could see every pore on your face.  _

_ His hand starts to move, hard phalanges pressing against your folds, two delving inside to press and tease at your g-spot. Your groan is muffled by his sternum as you lap at his chest, wanting him to feel the same addicting jolts of pleasure that coursed through your  _ _ nerves _ _. His moans were rich and embarrassingly loud, and he was happy that the two of you were miles away from any prying eyes and ears.  _

_ “baby,” He breathes, feeling your walls tighten around his fingers. He was crooking and twisting them just how he knew you liked it, groaning with every cry and moan he coaxed from your lips. “you’re close, ain’t ya?”  _

_ “N-No, I-I don’t… don’t wanna cum yet…”  _

_ “why’s that?” He asks, withdrawing his fingers, half-minded to keep going. He was positively reeling in the broken cries he pulled from you.  _

_ “I… I want you inside,” Your fingers weakly entwine on his ribs, pulling him closer into your warm skin. Shivers travel up his spine as he grips your thighs, roughly pushing them apart. He strokes his pelvis and a pulsing, red cock forms in his grip, grinding against your wetness.  _

_ “yeah? wanna tell me how much you want it, sweetheart?”  _

_ “F-Fuck me hard, please Red, please…”  _

_ “that’s right,” He growls, pushing his scarlet cockhead into you, the stretch alone causing you to squeal. “you dirty girl. look’it how fuckin’ wet ya are.” _

_ “Yes, yes, yesyesyes…” You trail off, tears of pleasure threatening to spill down your face, slowly growing hazier and hazier, fading into a distance Red didn’t notice until it was too late. _

_ The bed grew farther and farther away, the skeleton himself floating off of the sheets, blackness surrounding your shared bedroom as an infernal beep puts him back where he should be.  _

His alarm clock is destroyed, his bony fist shattering the plastic like a fragmentation grenade. Red growls in frustration, magic burning hotly through his bones as he squirms in his sweaty, torn-up bed sheets. His claws must have torn through the fabric in his sleep, again. Since when did he talk like a pornstar in bed?

He pinches the bridge of his  nose,  slowly dragging himself out of bed, careful not to step on any cooler cans or day-old pizza slices as he beelines for the shower, practically tearing off his sweats in the process. The lust coursing through his system was enough to distract from his guilt of even picturing you like this, as well as how badly in need his bathroom was for a scrubbing. Turning on the shower, he sets the water to boiling and closes the curtain behind him. 

Red was not a virgin. He’d hooked up with the occasional monster, rarely a human, but never anything more than a one-night stand. The feelings he had harboured for you were new, as was his lewd fantasy. It was the only sex dream he’d had in...forever.

Of course, he masturbated occasionally, but he was almost always too lazy to do it. Nine out of ten times the night would end with his hand in his waistband and his phone on his face, snoozing off into the next morning. Needless to say, until now, he had never experienced such raw desire controlling his magic, hazing his brain, and causing him to drool all over the floor of his tub like a neanderthal. 

His lustful intentions left him clawing the shower wall as his magic opens him up to sensitivity, the hot water alone sending his eyes rolling back into his skull. He drags his claws around the backside of his ribs and jumps slightly, the harsh jolts of pleasure catching him off guard. He growls to himself, allowing his hard fingers to trail over his sternum and down the arch of his spine, and he bucks into his own touch. He chomps down on his free hand, muffling his groans while slowly easing back into it. It had been  _ so _ long. 

Steam clouds the bathroom as he loses himself in  his lust . Trying his absolute hardest to recall the dream, or maybe even finish it, he strokes at his lower vertebrae, the hand in his drooling mouth not nearly enough to suppress the volume of his moans. 

Suddenly hatching an idea, he practically crushes a bar of soap in his hand and lathers up his phalanges with suds. His slick hand  moves closer to his pelvis, carefully sliding past the top and in behind the bone. He sucks in a breath, slamming his palm against the inside of his crotch, and rubbing. Hard. 

His free hand darts to the shower wall as he yells his pleasure, voice threatening to wake up his neighbours as he strokes himself with a growing furiosity. The intensity brought tears to his eyesockets, his mind a complete haze, unable to think of anything else but the rough strokes that each felt like individual orgasms.

His claws dig into the shower wall and he grips the plaster for dear life, his voice growing even louder as a debilitating tingle of pleasure nearly sets his pelvis ablaze. He was rapidly approaching his peak, the water cascading through every groove of his bones, yet all he could think of was your soft fingers and tongue, mapping out his body with vigor, unravelling his self-control. He pulls his hand from the wall, gripping his lower vertebrae with his jagged claws, running the sharp appendages between each nook and cranny, before raking them down his spine. He pictured you playing rough with his bones, sucking hard on his sacrum…

He bites down on his own tongue as he comes undone, his body shaking and twitching as wave after orgasmic wave cascades through his frame. He snarls, unbearably loud, wishing he had something to sink his teeth into as his peak doesn’t stop. He collapses to his knees, unable to muster any physical strength as his world is a series of hot and cold tingles, riding along his spine like electricity, the mind-boggling pleasure finally showing signs of relent as he finds he can’t scream anymore. 

Even so, the water rushing over his bones reminds him of the magic residing in his chest cavity, burning brighter as his lust resurfaces for another round. Despite  the sheer intensity of his release, he can’t shake off his cloudy desire, or the images of you floating around in his head. 

He feels an involuntary force of magic travelling through his pelvis, eliciting a groan from his thick throat as his cock forms, a pulsing red organ sizable both in length and especially girth. He tenderly wraps his clawed fingers around it, the added pressure sending rough surges of pleasure through his oversensitive body. His fangs elongate, drool mixing with the shower water on the side of his face as he lets his mind wander back to you. 

_ “Red,” You whine, wearing some incredibly sexy lingerie, showing off the softest places on your body he would love to squeeze and fondle. You sit on your knees, waiting for him to come to you, to touch you. _

He grips the base of his cock, squeezing softly and building up a formidable edge. Maybe he had been too hard on himself earlier, as you would likely chide. He longed to have you with him, to have something delicate, fragile, and cherish it like a statue of jade. How gentle and slow he would take it, ensuring you were comfortable, and he was comfortable, too, setting a mood that hopefully lasted until morning. His mind trails to a new fantasy and he finds his lust growing hotter behind his ribs, far more intense than that brought on by the self-depreciating attraction he had harboured moments before. 

_ Your back is flush against his headboard, gripping his sheets and leather jacket as he goes down on you. Your legs are resting on his shoulders, thick thighs squeezing at his skull as he delves inside of you, lapping you up and hissing about how amazing you taste and smell. _

He groans, picking up his pace.

_ Your lips are wrapped around his thick cock, his claws tearing up his bed beyond repair as you take his entire length down your throat, your tongue prodding the base of his pelvis as you tighten your muscles around it, soft moans travelling through his shaft and up his spine. His red precum would dot your lips, and you would immediately lick it up, whining deliciously at the taste, much like the mimosa you spilled the previous night. _

He forces himself to stop stroking, squeezing unbearably hard, keeping his release down as he thinks about how  the inside of your mouth would feel on him, the ferocity and passion you would have for him showing in your ministrations and gentle, teasing touches, before allowing him to indulge in something more intense . After minutes of torture you would come off his length with a pop and present yourself to him, already two orgasms deep and aching for a third. 

_ “H-Harder, harder please! Please, Red, please,” You cry and beg as he pounds into you, his grip on your ass completely possessive and rough. He leans down into your ear, growling, making you see stars, helping you realize how important you were to him. The pleasure he gives you leaves you spoiled, unable to get off anymore with the use of toys, needing nothing else but his thick cock inside of you, fucking you into the mattress while he reminds you how naughty you’d been, how beautiful, sexy, and dirty he paints you as while you scream your release over, and over, and  _ **_over_ ** _.  _

He starts pumping himself furiously, his orgasm budding in the pit of his  hollow stomach. He pictures you under his grasp, the pleasure unbearable as he takes you higher than any drug, each orgasm he pulls out of you a promise for two more. He would love to pleasure you, to revel in it, to make you feel so good for him, of all people, because you deserved nothing but constant euphoria, and he would know just how to bring it.

_ “I-Inside,” You choke, barely able to speak, the one word enough to signify how badly you wanted him to fill you. _

His moans increase in volume, his pace juttery and fast, the soap lessening the friction and sending him billowing over the edge. His last coherent thought is your beautiful, glimmering eyes locking with his as he finishes inside of you, hot magic flooding your insides and painting your oversensitive pussy such a pretty shade of scarlet. 

He roars your name, uncaring of his neighbours as he spills over the edge. Torrents of hot, burning magic coat the shower wall, pleasure firing through his bones and threatening to break tissue. He finds himself on his knees in the tub again, cum spraying all over his hand, legs, and chest.

“ffffuck,” He groans, aftershocks rocking through him as his orgasm dissipates. He pumps himself lazily, an overwhelming weakness taking over as he slumps down in the shower, the water lukewarm at this point. The magic in his bones finally finding release, the lust in his system parting to make way for guilt and familiar loneliness. He puts on a brave face as he cleans himself up, checking his phone for confirmation that it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. 

He didn’t deserve you, and he knew it. It was a daily thought, drilled into his mind, ending every train of wishful thinking he had about himself in a relationship. Sometimes he wished he was as confident as his partner. 

Well, ex-partner.

The afterglow sets in, acting like a year’s supply of melatonin on the massive skeleton. He  resigns  himself back to his bed, suddenly too tired to worry about an excuse to avoid your wine night in twelve hours. He’d have to come up with one on the spot.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahhhhhhh i hope you guys liked that i just wanted to get people accustomed with how red is sexually as well as romantically in intimacy and what better way to establish that than through a dream?? yay
> 
> expect an update relatively? soon? idk I'm not making promises i just bought overwatch soooo
> 
> thanks for reading you lovely sinners you


	10. Miss Miracle VS. The Winery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can't humans not be assholes for one fucking day?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everybody! thanks for being so patient on an update. i was gonna say how much work I've been putting into this fic and planning the story and stuff but that's a big fat lie because I AM IN LOVE WITH OVERWATCH
> 
> i am also working two jobs so...there's that. updates may be scarce from now on but i am making a commitment to write every day!
> 
> please enjoy this chappie! *smooch*
> 
> edit: holy shit??? 700 kudos i...wow...i love you all and I'm so happy you all love this fic too!! aaaa

YOOO BEFORE WE GET STARTED CHECK OUT THIS INCREDIBLE GIFT FOR ME BY [PLUSHY!!!](http://www.plushysins.tumblr.com)

 

  


 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The rest of your Sunday morning was uneventful, thank goodness.

Undyne had left at around 7:30, which meant you had an entire day to plan for a dinner party now that you were too exhausted to go back to sleep. Your fatigue felt like a tiny, angry man in your brain that yelled at you every time you attempted to shut your eyes. As an aspiring med student, you were a giant hypocrite for allowing yourself to grow this unhealthy.

However, you had shit to do. Your shopping list was long and you only had ten hours to spruce the apartment up before guests would arrive. That is, _if_ guests arrived. You didn’t even know who was coming, outside of Undyne and her girlfriend, Toriel, and Frisk.

You were sitting in your living room loveseat, halfway into figuring out white or red wine on the liquor store website when your phone buzzes. You close your laptop to answer it.

“Hello?”

“DOCTOR HUMAN!!!” Your eardrum explodes while your chest turns to ice from shock. So much for a quiet start to your day.

“H-Holy shit, Papyrus?”

“Yes, it is I! Be sure to watch your language!”

“Oh, hey. Sorry. How can I help you on this early Sunday morning?”

“I was calling to ensure that my presence at your event this evening was premeditated!” You could hear him shouting into the phone from across the hall.

“Uh, you wanted to know if you were invited?” Sometimes, Papyrus had a habit of over-complicating his statements to make himself sound smarter. Everyone just sort of went along with it.

“Err...yes.”

“Of course you are!” You chirp, “Who would say otherwise? Undyne and her girlfriend are coming and so are the Dreemurrs.”

“As expected! Perhaps my brother and I will see you at…” He trails off.

“...At? At what?”

There’s silence on his end of the phone, save for the occasional heavy breath.

“At six?” You offer, and he yelps back.

“Ah yes, six post meridiem!” You giggle at that, Papyrus must have been embarrassed that he didn’t know what time the event was at. “Oh, it appears my brother would like to speak with you. Goodbye, my tiny friend! I’ll see you at six, _wink_!”

There’s a short pause and some static before Sans’ familiar baritone slides through your receiver.

“hey, kid.”

“Oh, hi Sans.”

“how are ya holdin’ up?”

“I’m alright,” He must have been referring to the explosion. “Patients are still coming through as normal. I went to Grillby’s for the first time in like, ever.”

“oh, that so? did it _light_ up your life?”

“Last night was incredible. I think I gave the bartender a military salute before I was escorted out.”

Sans’s booming laugh seemed to wipe the fatigue from your system.

“never pegged ya as a ‘party hard’ kinda gal. grillbz must’a been pretty sad to see ya go.”

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” You boast, “Matter of fact, you’re just the skeleton I wanted to talk to.”

“you don’t say.”

“Yeah, actually. I need to do some errands for tonight, and I might need some help. Are you still coming?”

“yup, paps wouldn’t let me miss it even if i tried.”

“Great!” You chirp, a little too enthusiastically, “That’s great. The liquor store opens in about an hour and I need to grab as much wine as I can afford. Did you feel like accompanying me?”

“hmm, i dunno, tooth, this bed seems pretty comfortable.”

“I hope that’s not a sexual innuendo.”

“it wasn’t,” He chuckles, “but i guess i know where your mind is.”

“So, about that wine,” You cough, “Tonight is mainly a potluck and BYOB but I figured it would be nice to treat everyone to something, especially after...recent events. I’m leaving in about half an hour, if you wanna come.”

“ok.”

You could have sworn you reached Papyrus’s eye-level from how high you jumped. Sans’ voice was coming from your couch behind you. His permagrin was much cheekier than usual.

“Jesus, dude, who do you think you are!?” You were clutching your chest, trying to lower your heart rate. At this pace it would sprout legs and dive out of your boob.

“sans,” He replies, lounging further onto your couch. He was wearing his usual street attire; a hoodie, baggy shorts and sneakers, and a flat-billed cap.

“You’re gonna give someone a heart attack one day.”

“nope, i’m still sans. thought we went over this.”

You did nothing but sigh and shake your head.

“Did Papyrus want to tag along?”

“nah, he told me he’s gonna be in the kitchen all day cooking up somethin’ for tonight. he really wants to surprise ya, he said.”

“Oh, gosh, that’s so sweet of him. Does he drink at all? I wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable.” The last thing you needed was to lose your new friends just after making them.

Sans quirks a bony brow, seemingly surprised at your thoughtfulness.

“socially, yeah. i let him drink if he thinks he can handle it. the night usually ends with pap slung over undyne’s shoulder, but some wine at dinner shouldn’t bother him. hopefully.”

He winks.

I _let_ him drink. Sometimes you forget that all Sans, Red, and Papyrus had were each other. Papyrus was still 19, despite being so ridiculously tall, Sans was somewhere in his 20s, and you assumed Red was the same. They’d been looking out for each other for god knows how long, without any parental guidance or advice. It must have been hard.

“Right. We should probably leave soon if we wanna get alcohol and foodstuffs before I have to clean my whole apartment.”

“ok.”

“Just so you know, that involves getting off of my couch.”

“ok.”

You step into your slip-ons and grab your wallet from the hallway shelf.

“Sans, come on, we don’t have all day.”

You glance over to the couch again, but his cheeky smile was nowhere to be found.

“really, kid? we’re waitin’ for you here.”

The skeleton in question was now behind you, grinning like an asshole, holding the front door open while you tried to piece together what exactly happened. Your dumbfounded expression made his broad shoulders shake from suppressed laughter.

“c’mon, i’ll be a skeleton by the time yer ready to go. oh--oh wait,” He snorts, and you jokingly punch his arm. It felt like concrete underneath his jacket.

“Whatever,” You laugh, trying not to wince from the pain in your knuckles. “The bus leaves in ten.”

“bus? nah, i have a better idea. gimme yer hand for a sec.”

You feel your cheeks redden as you place your hand in his. The bones were as warm and smooth as you remember from a week ago, almost like living marble.

“Uh-?”

“just close yer eyes.”

“Okay.”

You oblige, and suddenly the ground beneath you vanishes into thin air. It felt like you missed a step on the way down the stairs, your eyes shut so tightly that you thought your cheeks would bruise. Static noise fills your ears for a split second before sunlight turns your vision red. The sudden breeze and outside warmth causes you to open your eyes and lock gazes with Sans. He was staring at you apprehensively, his grin slightly more tense as you take in your sudden change of surroundings.

Huh. So that was what it was like to teleport.

“so? whadd’ya think?”

“That was…” You trail off, a fist coming to your mouth as you feel your stomach curdle and the urge to vomit tickle at your throat. You swallow harshly, negating your would-be nausea. Sans reaches out to you but you hold out a finger.

“I’m good,” You wheeze. “That was a lot to get used to. Wow.”

“shit, sorry. i probably should’a warned ya about that. it took frisk a few months to get over the sickness.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine, thanks for the ride, Sans, you’re a lifesaver. You could say we got here in a _flash_.”

He perks up at that, the corners of his smile twitching in amusement.

“anytime.”

The alleyway you two were loitering in smelled like sweaty garbage. Opting to leave, the two of you wander Diamond Avenue, shopping at different stores, crossing off item by item on your prep list for the evening. Sans turned out to be an absolute wonder when it came to stores without a shopping cart. He could wander around the isles with his eyes closed, your bags and purchases magically drifting around his head as you frantically searched for decorations and cake mix.

It was around noon when the pair of you made it to the liquor store. Upon entering the automatic doors, you notice Sans looks a little uncomfortable. Deciding not to ask about it, your gaze drifts to the charred ruins of Muffet’s emporium just around the corner. A pang of sadness travels across your heart, and it must have shown on your face, as you soon feel a bony elbow poking your side.

“still thinkin’ about it?” He asks, eye sockets uncharacteristically furrowed in concern. You glance up at him and frown.

“Hard not to,” You answer, and he nods in agreement. “It’s kinda painful to talk about without alcohol.”

“i understand.”

“Maybe,” You begin, glancing at him mischievously and wanting nothing more than to change the subject. “I should quit _wine_ -ing.”

Sans chuckles, grabbing a bottle of red wine from the shelf without even looking and tosses it into the basket. “huh. are you sure you could handle my puns, sweetheart? they’re pretty di- _vine_ , if you ask me.”

“That one wasn’t all that _grape_ , Sans.”

“sorry, doc, i guess i was drawing a _blanc_.” He tosses in a discounted bottle of white wine.

“Should we _declaret_ me the winner, then?” You were giggling like an idiot and you were sure some onlookers had stopped to watch the action but you couldn’t care less.

“nah. i’m not putting a _cork_ on this one until you give.”

“Well, good, because I’ve been _bottling_ up a few extra.”

“you’re just a _barrel_ of laughs, aren’t ya, doc-”

“ _What tha’ FUCK are ya doin’ on MY TURF?_ ”

The sound of wine bottles shattering catches you off guard. You spin around to see a broken crowd of customers, encircling two loud and angry patrons. Wait a moment, you recognized that voice…

“Doggo?” You chirp, and Sans pinches his nose, sighing in irritation. You dash over to the scene of the commotion, wishing you were surprised to see a human and a monster at each other’s throats. The contents of expensive-looking shattered bottles pooled all over the tile floor.

“doggo, what do you think yer doin’, bud?” Sans says, somehow managing to keep his lazy drawl louder than the murmuring onlookers.

The dog monster in question ignores Sans’s question and has his hands on his knife belt, both still sheathed, but ready to pull out and strike at any moment. The human in front of him was wearing a yellow bandana around his arm, signifying his membership to Iron Justice, a gang of pretentious vigilantes who, whenever they show up for treatment, always complain that they’re in the right despite you being knee deep in their wounds and fishing for bullets. For the life of you, you couldn’t remember his name, but the two of them looked like they were about to trade blades. Without thinking, you push yourself through the circle of bystanders.

Sans knew to stay back and watch this unfold.

“Doggo!” You shout, and his ears flatten. He turns to see you with your arms crossed, twiddling your fingers against your shirt so you remained in his vision. Your expression was much like a mother disappointed in their kid for sneaking cookies before dinner.

“S-Sweet Tooth? What are you doin’ here?”

“Why are you antagonizing people in the middle of a winery?”

“Antagonizing?!” He barks in angry confusion, “I was gettin’ an anniversary present for my boyfriend when this _pink-skin_ decided to come bully a blind dog.”

You turn to the human in question, who was reddened with embarrassment. He was breathing heavily, unable to stutter out a response with you in front of him.

“And? You were in my care two weeks ago. You told me you were turning over a new leaf. Is what Doggo says true?”

“N-No!! I...yes?”

“Why would you, a fellow human, pick a fight with a monster, on Underground turf, _right after_ they were terrorized by humans? I hate to break it to you but I can’t patch you up if you die. I don’t even think I would _want_ to.”

“Cause this asshole deserves it! He’s the one who sent me to you in the first place.”

Doggo simply growls in response, more than ready to do it again.

“Okay, woah, both of you relax. There is no need for bloodshed today.”

Many of the monsters around you were glaring at the human, and you figured they wouldn’t exactly protest Doggo turning him into paste.

“Doggo, I get you’re upset, but think of Ice Wolf. You wouldn’t want to spoil your anniversary, would you?”

His bared teeth disappear behind his lips and his ears flatten even further. If you strained your ears you could hear a faint, guilty whimper.

“And _you_ ,” You turn to glare at the Iron Justice member. “You said you were getting out of I.J., but you want revenge first because he, well, kicked your ass.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I’m disappointed in you. You abused my hospitality and lied to my face about leaving Ebott after I cleaned your wounds and stitched them up, _for free_ , I might add, just to harass a monster two days after a _terrorist attack_. What the hell is your problem?” Your voice omit a growl that could have rivalled Doggo’s own. He looked rather impressed.

The human’s cheeks go beet red, and he hangs his head in shame.

“I’m sorry, miss. I was wrong.”

“Yeah, you were. Get the hell out of here.”

You glance at Sans through the corner of your eye and he flashes you a thumbs up, winking.

“Doggo, I think you were in the right, I really do, but what do you have to say to everyone staring for disturbing their day?”

“Seriously-?”

“Doggo…” You warn. He raises his palms in surrender and turns to face the sudden audience of monsters. He knew most of them, telling by the pinkness tinting his cheek fur.

“I’m...sorry, everybody.”

The crowd of monsters called back a handful of “it’s okay, Doggo,”s and “we forgive you”s.You pat Doggo’s large shoulder, flashing him a smile. You pet him slightly and his ears perk up.

“Thank you. Now run along, and please stay out of trouble. Tell Ice I said hello, and that I still owe him a lollipop.”

“Sure thing, doc, thanks!” He grabs his bottle with a cute, pink, ribbon with a bone pattern tied around the neck and dashes out the automatic door. The crowd of monsters soon disperses, leaving you alone in the isle with Sans.

“don’t think i’ve seen doggo back down from a fight so quickly before. you’ve got a talent, kid.”

“Oh, stop,” You femininely bat at the air, “You flatter me.”

“hey, well, it’s true. thanks.” He shrugs.

“Thanks? For what?”

“for bein’ so accepting, i guess. ya got hundreds of criminals wrapped around yer tiny little finger, most of ‘em monsters. don’t think i’ve ever met a human as nice as you before.”

You blush, unable to find the words to reply. You were caught off guard by his sudden shift in attitude.

“we’ve only been living in the same building for a month, now, and my brother barely talks about anythin’ aside from you. it’s kinda hilarious. guess what i’m tryin’ to say here is that, well, i hope we can be good friends too, _miss_.” He mocks Doggo’s sad tone and forces a giggle out of you. Your face felt like lava but your stomach felt a little empty, like someone had paralyzed the butterflies running rampant in your ribcage two seconds earlier.

“That’s really nice of you to say. Thanks, Sans, I hope we do too.”

The two of you quickly gathered the rest of the wine and completed your list. You were thrilled at finishing your errands as now you could get to cleaning your apartment, but your skeletal companion didn’t quite share your enthusiasm. In fact, he looked asleep while he trailed beside you. It took talent to walk and nap at the same time.

The walk home was uneventful. Sans claimed that he was too exhausted from standing around and doing nothing that he couldn’t blink the two of you home. While you were walking, however, you couldn’t shake off your blue feeling that attached itself to you in the winery earlier.

 _Good friends_.

Why did that disappoint you so much?

A pair of phalanges snapping in front of your eyes pulls you out of your thoughts.

“heya, miss miracle, did ya take any pictures when ya went to space?” Sans winks, nudging you a bit with his shoulder.

“Ha-ha, very funny. Why the nickname?”

“well, i figured ya had to be a miracle worker to break up a fight like that as quickly as ya did. it actually took the whole walk home to come up with it.”

“Wait, what?”

Since when did you get home? Sans was standing at his door, twirling his keys around on his finger, a brow quirked at your odd behaviour. You didn’t even notice walking up the steps and into your complex.

“jeez, doc, how long were ya out?”

“I’m not sure. I guess I just have a lot on my mind.”

“right. well, i’m gonna grab somethin’ from inside real quick, then me an’ paps’ll be over in a few. he texted me sayin’ he was done cooking and wants to help clean.”

“Really?” You gasp. “That’s, like, the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a very long time.”

“we’ll be over in around ten. try not to miss me too much, capiche?”

“Capiche? Sans, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about your starring role on _The Godfather_.”

“i’m ashamed by it. i ended up leaving the show because they didn’t have enough travel peanuts in the cast trailers.”

“Oh my god,” You wheeze, “I’ll see you in ten. I’m gonna see if Red’s gonna join us tonight.”

Sans’s expression visibly drops, his grin shortening for a split second before he turns back to open his door.

“right. see ya.”

He closes it behind him, leaving you alone and slightly confused in the hallway. You decided to brush it off and ask him about it later. You knew something personal was going on between Red and Sans now that the two of them practically had to avoid each other, even if neither of them told you. Maybe the skeletons would open up after a few glasses of wine.

Maybe...Red couldn’t drink wine. Maybe it needed more sugar in it. As you wander down the halls towards Red’s apartment, your head fills with more incessant thoughts and you could have sworn you were having heart palpitations.

A bout of vertigo hits you, and if you weren’t resting your hand against the door for support, you would have grabbed your head to stop it from spinning. Prickles ran up and down your skin, making your fingers numb and cold. Your breath comes in short, shaky bursts as you mull over the situation. It’s not like you’re asking him out on a date, but you’re so nervous anyway, it’s just a get together with friends… You raise your hand to knock, but your arm is concrete, fixed in position.

With a deep breath, though it felt more like a desperate gasp for air, you give you a few light taps. The seconds pass like minutes, and your racing thoughts were so dizzying you felt you head might just fall off your shoulders.

Should you have texted him? Would it be weird that you just arrived at his door without much of a reason? It had only been twelve hours since the two of you were together last, and you were too drunk to even walk yourself back to your bedroom. Maybe he was busy, and you disturbing him was very inappropriate.

On the verge of spinning around and dashing back into your own apartment, you hear the knob unlock and the door creak open, followed by a deep, husky drawl.

“i’m busy nappin’. screw off-”

Red took a moment to wipe the sleep from his eyes before meeting your gaze. His face was dishevelled, his cheeks a terrible shade of crimson and he looked absolutely exhausted.

“oh, uh, hey. thought ya were someone else.”

“H-Hey, Red, that’s okay,” You chuckle, rather awkwardly, “Is this a bad time? I can come back later.”

“n-no, i, well, i’m, uh, a little busy. tired, i mean. yeah. i’m tired.”

“Oh god, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry.”

“no!” He shouts, recoiling when you flinch. “i mean, no, no ya didn’t. what’d’ya want?”

“Oh, well, I wanted to see if you were up for coming over for a wine night.”

Red gives you a deadpanned stare and you feel like your discomfort and embarrassment would eventually set you on fire at this point.

“a wine night?” He echoes.

“Y-Yeah, a wine night. I already invited the floor, and, well, I wanted to see if you wanted to come. We all went to Toriel’s the weekend I moved in, but you left early, and stuff, so…” You were twiddling your fingers, resisting the urge to break eye contact. “Maybe you...wanted to stick around for this one?”

“‘dunno if that’s a good idea. i’m, uh, b-busy.”

“Oh,” You sigh, trying not to let the disappointment show, “Are you sick? Did you need anything?”

His skull turns a darker shade of red, an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint gracing his toothy frown.

“nah. just, too tired to do anythin’.”

“A-Are you sure?” You decided to try your hand at doctor mode. That usually helped progress conversation. “You look a little feverish.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment before shaking his head.

“Oh...well, what did you say you were doing tonight?”

His eye sockets widen momentarily before looking everywhere but your face. He was sweating bullets, perspiration wounds dampening his shirt collar.

“uh, y’know, bounty huntin’ stuff, an’ all that.”

“Really? It’s not good to take on work when you’re overtired.”

“well, i mean, i’m not _that_ tired, i mean, well,” Red continued to avoid eye contact and you were a little thankful. He was staring at the floor, his breath shallow and his bones were rattling slightly as he tapped his foot unrhythmically. “yeah.”

“Yeah...what?”

The skeleton looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

“i, uh, can’t go.”

“Can’t go where?” You were genuinely confused. Red wasn’t making much sense.

“i can’t grow--err, go…” He was twiddling with his phalanges and his voice was barely above a whisper. His gaze falls to the floor and the foot-tapping stops entirely.

“Uh, Red? Are you really alright?”

“i said no,” He barks, “i’m not coming to yer wine night.” His voice was firm and left no room for an argument. He was glaring at you, his crimson eyes radiating the same kind of ferocity one would see in a raccoon cornered in a dumpster. “i gotta go.”

He abruptly shuts the door a little too quickly, leaving you alone in the hallway once more. You felt your heart squeeze a bit, and immense guilt set in. Maybe you shouldn’t have bothered him in the first place when, deep down, you already knew the answer.

If you didn’t know any better, you would have assumed he was making excuses. From your time at Grillby’s together, you learned that Red didn’t exactly have the closest relationships with his fellow monsters in your complex, save for Sans and Papyrus. He wouldn’t get into it, but if you barely knew anyone at a social gathering, wouldn’t you opt out of it too?

You just wish he would have told you up front.

Upon your return to your own door, the skeleton brothers were standing outside in the hall. Papyrus perks up when he sees you, clutching a large dish wrapped in tin foil. Sans had his eye sockets closed, leaning against the wall. He sounded like he was snoring.

“Ah, human!” Papyrus breaks the silence, but concern etches itself into his skull when he meets your gaze. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Papyrus, I’m alright.” His concern was enough to force a smile out of you, and he smiled in return, happy he could rid you of the probable sadness on your face. “I’m just a little disappointed, but I’ll live.”

He noticed where you were coming from and nodded his head in understanding.

“Do not worry. I am sure he will come to his senses! He always does!”

You tap his arm and gesture to his snoozing brother, who cracks open his eyelids the moment you’re about to ask after him.

“Right, then,” Papyrus claps his hands so loudly it nearly bursts your eardrum. “I believe you have some messes that require immediate cleanliness and some decorations that need...decorating!”

“Yeah,” You laugh, unlocking the door to your apartment. “I guess I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the stark contrast between Red and Sans is so fun to write...
> 
> some people have been asking when Sans will start to make his moves and stuff...but y'all are gonna ruin the story for yourselves! Let yourselves be surprised. *zenyatta voice* pass into the iris
> 
> god
> 
> i hope you all enjoyed this anyhow, also bonus points if anyone can tell me what mental illness Red has <3 (i have it myself)
> 
> also just a reminder, muffet's explosion happened on friday and it is now sunday. the progression of time is a lot slower than i would have liked but in my mind its necessary.


End file.
